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AN  ESSAY 


UPON    THE 


LIFE  AND  DRAMATIC  WORKS 


OP 


DR.  JUAN  PEREZ  DE  MONTALVAN 


THESIS 

Presented  to  the  Faculty  of  the  Department  op  Philosophy  of 

THE  University  of  Pennsylvania  in  Partial  Fulfilment 

of  the  Requirements  for  the  Degree  op  Doctor 

OF  Philosophy 


BY 

GEORGE  WILLIAM  BACON 


■   or  TME 


PHILADELPHIA 
1903 


Mist  OF 

The  New  Era  Prirtins  Commrv, 
Larcaiter,  Pa. 


Prefatoey  Note. 

The  principle  of  divisioD  into  four  different  classes  of  the 
plays  hereinafter  examined  —  i.  e.,  Comedias  heroicaSj  Comedias 
de  Capa  y  Espada,  Comedias  de  Santos  and  Comedias  devotas  — 
is  based  upon  those  definitions  given  by  Ticknor,  Vol.  II.,  pp. 
218,  207  and  247  respectively.  The  distinction  between  the 
Auto  sacramental  and  the  Comedia  devota  or  Comedia  de  Santos, 
is  well  drawn  by  Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  p.  441. 

The  present  dissertation  is  extracted  from  a  more  voluminous 
work  that  I  have  prepared  on  forty  of  the  dramas  of  Mon- 
talvan,  and  which  I  intend  publishing  in  book  form  at  no  dis- 
tant day. 

I  take  this  opportunity  to  express  my  appreciation  of  the 
courtesy  of  my  esteemed  Professor,  Dr.  Hugo  Albert  Rennert, 
not  only  in  kindly  assisting  me  in  the  revision  of  the  proofs, 
but  also  in  loaning  me  several  rare  and  valuable  works. 


pa 
F3 


117710 


CONTENTS. 

Part  I.                                         page. 
Life  and  Works  of  the  Author 1 

Part  II. 
Style  5 

Part  III. 
Analysis  of  Plays 

(a)  Comedias  heroicas. 

1.  El  Keynar  para  Morir 14 

2.  El  Segundo  Seneca  de  Espana 17 

(6)  Comedias  de  Capa  y  Espada. 

1.  Como  Amante  y  como  Honrada' 21 

2.  De  un  Castigo  dos  Venganzas 27 

(c)  Comedia  de  Santos. 

1.  Santo  Domingo  en  Soriano 32 

(d)  Comedia  devota. 

1 .  Escanderbech .36 

Part  IV. 

Criticism 

(a)  Comedias  heroicas. 

1.  El  Eeynar  para  Morir 38 

2.  El  Segundo  Seneca  de  Espana 38 

(b)  Comedias  de  Capa  y  Espada. 

1.  Como  Amante  y  como  Honrada 41 

2.  De  un  Castigo  dos  Venganzas 41 

(c)  Comedia  de  Santos. 

1.  Santo  Domingo  en  Soriano 43 

(d)  Comedia  devota. 

1.  Escanderbech 44 

Part  V. 

List  of  Full  Titles  of  Works  Quoted  in  Abbreviations  in 
the  Foot-notes  and  Text 46 

V 


DR.  JUAN   PEREZ  DE  MON'JAlS^^r^ 


I.   Life  and  Works. 

Doctor  Juan  Perez  de  Montalvan  was  born  at  Madrid  in 
1602.  His  father,  Alonso  Perez,  was  the  King's  book-seller, 
and  had  a  shop  in  the  Calle  de  Santiago}  After  studying  with 
great  success  the  Humanities,  Philosophy  and  Theology  at  the 
University  of  Alcald  de  Henares,  Montalvan  became  Licentiate 
in  1620.  The  same  year,  he  took  part  in  the  poetical  contest 
which  was  celebrated  at  Madrid  in  honor  of  St.  Isidro,  and 
presided  over  by  Lope  de  Vega.  So  meritorious  was  his  work 
that,  with  Lope's  assent,  he  carried  off  one  of  the  prizes  that 
were  there  offered.  Soon  after,  he  took  the  degree  of  Doctor 
of  Divinity,  and  on  May  13,  1625,  was  ordained  Priest  in  the 
Congregation  of  St.  Peter,  and  became  apostolic  notary  of  the 
tribunal  of  the  Inquisition.  A  rich  merchant  of  Peru,  who  had 
never  seen  him,  sent  him  the  same  year  a  pension,  as  his 
private  chaplain,  to  pray  for  him  in  Madrid  —  all  out  of  admi- 
ration for  his  genius  and  writings. 

In  1619,  he  began  to  write  for  the  stage,  under  the  guidance 
of  Lope  de  Vega,  who  had  some  years  before  conceived  for 
him  a  very  lively  affection.  As  Alonso  Perez  was  by  privilege 
the  editor  of  Lope's  works.  Lope  must  early  have  become  ac- 
quainted with  his  son,  and  the  friendship  became  a  lasting 
one.  In  1624,  he  published  a  poem  entitled  :  ^^  El  Orfeo  en 
lengua  castellana/^  dedicated  to  the  celebrated  Portuguese 
poetess,  Bernarda  Ferreira  de  la  Cerda.  It  was  preceded  by 
a  remarkable  panegyric  letter  written  by  Lope,  and  some  think, 
indeed,  that  he  was  the  author  of  the  poem  as  well,  and  wrote 
it  to  present  his  pupil  worthily  in  the  literary  arena.^     In  the 

^  Quevedo  asserts  that  he  was  previously  engaged  in  the  same  business  af 
Alcala  de  Henares.     (Barrera,  p.  264,  note.) 
2  On  this  question,  vid.  Barrera,  p.  264. 

(1) 


(2) 

same  year  appeared  his  eight  novels,  ^^Sucesos  y  Prodigios  de 
AmoVy^  which  saw  twelve  editions,  beside  a  French  translation. 
These  were  followed,  in  1627,  by  a  small  work  on:  "Xa 
Vida  y  Purgatomo  de  San  Patrioio/^  —  often  reprinted  and 
translated, — and,  in  1632,  by  the  famous  ^^Para  Todos/^  sl  mis- 
cellany of  "  Ciendas,  materias  y  facultades,  ejemplos  moraleSy 
humanos  y  divinos/^  containing,  besides,  four  Comedias  and  two 
Autos  sacrametvtales  of  the  same  author.  The  publication  of 
this  book,  which  ran  through  twelve  editions,  occasioned  the 
most  bitter  literary  battle,  in  which  were  exchanged  —  both  in 
print  and  manuscript,  prose  and  verse  —  satires  and  apologies, 
censures  and  defenses.  The  combat  was  begun  by  Francisco 
de  Quevedo,  of  whom  we  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  later. 

On  August  21,  1635,  four  days  after  the  date  of  the  tasa  of 
the  first  volume  of  his  dramatic  works,  our  author  lost,  by 
death,  his  friend  and  master.  Lope.  Previous  to  this  time  the 
first  germs  of  insanity  had  become  implanted  in  Montalvan, 
being  occasioned  by  his  excessive  study  and  literary  labors, 
and  now,  hastened  by  his  great  loss,  the  terrible  disease  began 
to  show  itself.  Under  its  influence,  he  published,  in  1636,  an 
extravagant  panegyric  on  Lope,  entitled  :  "jPama  pdstuma  d  la 
vida  y  muerU  de  Lope  de  Vega  Carpio  ;  y  dogios  panegiricos  d 
la  inmortalidad  de  su  nombreJ^  This  work  consists  of  a  biog- 
raphy of  the  playwright,  and  various  poems  written  in  his 
honor  by  over  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  his  contemporaries. 

Soon  after  this,  his  malady  became  aggravated,  and  he  lost 
his  reason  completely.  After  lingering  some  months  in  this 
miserable  condition,  death  mercifully  came  to  him  on  the 
twenty-fifth  of  June,  1638.^     A  splendid  funeral  was  given 

*  Ticknor,  vol.  11. ,  p.  314,  note  30,  says  :  *'  From  the  ^Deeimas '  of  Calderon 
in  this  volume,"  i.  e.,  the  '^Ldgrimas  panegfricas,^^  etc.,  vid.  the  next  para- 
graph in  the  text  above,  **  (f.  12),  I  infer  that  Montalvan  had  two  attacks 
of  paralysis,  and  died  a  very  gentle  death."  The  lines  alluded  to  run  as 
follows  : 

No  furioso  frenesi, 
No  delirio  riguroso 
Su  animo  turbd  piadoso, 
Un  blando  letargo  si, 


(3) 

him,  the  orators  being  the  Brother  Diego  Niseno  and  Doctor 
Francisco  de  Quintana,  and  he  was  interred  in  the  parish  of 
San  Miguel,  which  to-day  no  longer  exists.^ 

The  inevitable  eulogy  now  followed,  and  the  next  year, 
1639,  one  of  his  friends,  Pedro  Grande  de  Tena,  published 
—  as  Montalvan  had  done  for  Lope  —  a  large  number  of 
pieces  by  a  hundred  and  seventy-five  authors,  known  and  un- 
known, of  his  time.  To  this  collection  he  gave  the  name  : 
^^Lagrimas  Panegiricas  d  la  Tenprana  Muerte  del  Gran  Poeta, 
i  Teologo  Insigne,  Doctor  Juan  Perez  de  Montalhan,  Clerigo 
Presbitero,  i  Notario  de  la  Santa  Inquisidony  Natural  de  la 
Inperial  Villa  de  MadridJ'  ^ 

But  as  Montalvan  had  his  admirers,  so  he  had  his  enemies. 
The  most  bitter  of  them  all  was  Quevedo.  The  enmity  was 
caused  in  part,  perhaps,  by  the  father  of  Montalvan  pirating 
the  "  Buscon  "  of  Quevedo  as  soon  as  it  had  appeared  at  Zara- 
goza  in  1626.^     Quevedo  was  of  course  furious,  and  took  ven- 

Para  mostrarnos  assi 
Quanto  la  muerte  sebera 
Sintio  que  se  deshiziera 
Tanto  sujeto,  y  llego 
De  dos  vezes,  porque  no 
Se  atrevio  de  la  primera. 
They  would  seem  to  admit  such  an  interpretation  as  Ticknor  gives  them. 
1  Vid.  Barrera,  p.  264  ;  Ticknor,  1.  c,  p.  313 ;   Schack,  vol.  III.,  p.  372 ; 
Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  p.  417. 

'  I  possess  a  copy  of  this  rare  and  curious  book.  A  good  description  of  it 
is  found  in  Gallardo,  vol.  III.,  col.  118  ff.,  so  I  shall  only  supplement  here 
the  information  which  is  given  in  that  place.  The  poems  contained  therein 
are  most  varied  in  style,  including  the  Sonnet,  Sapphic  Elegy,  Decima,  Glossa, 
Epigram,  Octave,  Canzone,  Epicede,  Monody,  Dialogism,  Lyric,  Acrostic, 
Dialogued  Sonnet,  Silva,  Funeral  Elegy,  Romance,  Madrigal,  Endecha,  Elegiac 
Bomance,  Epitaph,  and  Tercet.  The  majority  of  these  are  written,  of  course, 
in  Spanish,  though  specimens  in  Latin  are  by  no  means  lacking.  They  offer 
no  great  interest,  and  are,  on  the  whole,  insufferably  tedious,  owing  to  the  oft- 
repeated  and  extravagant  eulogies  they  contain.  The  remainder  of  the  vol- 
ume is  occupied  by  the  two  funeral  orations,  that  of  Niseno  extending  over 
thirty-four  folios,  and  a  treatise  on  poetry,  which  occupies  eighteen  folios. 

3Cf.  Merimee,  pp.  107  and  150,  note  1  ;  Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  p.  418.  Tick- 
nor, 1.  c,  p.  321,  note,  states  that  the  pirated  work  was  the  '^  Politica  de 
Dios.'^     Previous  to  this,  however,  Quevedo  had  a  grudge  against  Montalvan, 


(4) 

geance  upon  the  book-seller  in  the  courts.  This  only  added 
fuel  to  the  fire,  and  the  Montalvans  hit  back  by  taking  a  hand, 
with  Fray  Niseno,  in  causing  a  prohibition  of  his  works  to 
be  made  by  the  Inquisition  in  1 63 1  .^  When  the  "  Para  Todos  " 
appeared  in  1632,  Quevedo  eagerly  seized  the  opportunity  for 
squaring  himself,  and  ridiculed  this  melange  in  a  vicious  satire  en- 
titled :  "  La  Perinola/'  i.  e.,  "  The  Tetotum,"  which  passed  about 
in  manuscript  with  great  applause.^  But  Montalvan  was  not 
to  remain  unavenged,  for,  in  reply,  his  friends  launched  against 
Quevedo  a  most  insolent  libel  called  :  "  El  Tribunal  de  la  Justa 
Venganza,^^  which  appeared  at  Valencia  in  1635.^  Three  years 
later  Montalvan  died,  and  as  Quevedo  had  predicted  that  his 

as  is  shown  by  the  sarcastic  ''^  Carta  consolatoria^^  sent  to  our  author  after 
one  of  his  plays  had  been  hissed.  Vid.  Kivadeneyra,  vol.  45,  p.  xxxi ; 
M^rim^e,  p.  350,  note  2  ;  Ticknor,  1.  c,  p.  321.  It  is  inserted  in  the  "  Don 
Diego  de  Noche^^  of  Salas  Barbadillo,  which  was  printed  in  1623,  and  indeed 
some  think  the  latter  was  the  author.  An  amusing  anecdote  concerning 
Quevedo  and  Montalvan  is  related  by  Schack,  1.  c,  p.  374,  note,  and  a  de- 
tailed account  of  the  quarrel  between  them  is  given  in  Kivadeneyra,  vol.  48, 
p.  463  ff.,  note. 

1  Ticknor,  1.  c,  p.  292,  note  36  ;  Barrera,  p.  265. 

'  Barrera,  ib.  An  account  of  the  contents  of  this  libel  is  given  by  Schack, 
1.  c,  p.  374  £f.,  and  M^rim^e,  p.  349  ff.  Manuscript  copies  of  it  are  not 
infrequent.  I  have  examined  the  one  in  the  Library  of  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania.  It  is  apparently  of  about  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, and  consists  of  twenty-one  folios.  The  attack  first  found  its  way  into 
print  in  1788.  It  may  be  conveniently  read  in  Rivadeneyra,  vol.  48,  pp. 
463-478.  A  list  of  editions  is  given  on  p.  465,  note.  There  seems  to  be 
nothing  in  the  ^^ Para  Todos"  to  warrant  Quevedo  in  writing  such  a  pam- 
phlet. 

'Ticknor,  1.  c,  p.  292,  note  36.  The  question  of  authorship  is  discussed 
by  M^rim^e,  p.  108  ff.  Montalvan  was  always  much  bantered  for  his  aristo- 
cratic airs,  and  Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  p.  417,  quotes  some  amusing  satirical 
verses  written  by  Quevedo  on  this  theme.  Cf.  also  M^rim^e,  p.  349,  note  1. 
I  cannot  do  more  here  than  merely  allude  to  Quevedo' s  absurd  mistake  in 
confounding  Francisco  de  la  Torre  with  one  Alfonso  de  la  Torre,  who  lived 
about  two  centuries  before.  That  I  should  mention  it  at  all  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  Montalvan  was  the  indirect  cause  of  Quevedo' s  error  remaining  uncor- 
rected by  Lope  de  Vega.  Vid.  Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  p.  255  ff.  M^rim^e, 
however,  (p.  316  ff. ),  does  not  accept  Francisco  de  la  Torre  as  the  author  of 
the  poems  edited  by  Quevedo,  and  suggests  that  the  real  author  may  have 
been  Francisco  de  Figueroa. 


(5) 

enemy  would  die  insane,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  his 
prophecy  fulfilled,  since  he  himself  lived  till  1645.^ 

The  dramatic  works  of  our  author  were  published  in  two 
volumes,  each  containing  twelve  plays.^  The  first  edition  ap- 
peared at  Madrid  in  1635,-^  and  the  second  at  Valencia  in  1652. 
Besides  the  twenty-four  plays  which  the  original  edition  con- 
tains, there  are  many  sueltas,'^  and  also  several  pieces  in  which 
Montalvan  was  a  joint  author  with  others.^ 

Although  almost  all  his  works  were  received  by  the  public 
with  the  greatest  favor,  as  is  proved  by  the  many  editions 
through  which  they  passed,  yet  our  author's  chief  success  was 
on  the  stage.  Here  his  popularity  was  so  great  that  the  book- 
sellers found  it  to  be  to  their  interest  to  print  under  his  name 
many  plays  of  various  other  dramatists.  Such  action,  of  course, 
displeased  him  not  a  little,  and  brought  forth  loud  complaints  in 
the  "  Para  Todos "  and  in  the  preface  to  the  first  volume  of 
the  plays.® 

II.   Style. 

Don  Joseph  Pellicer  de  Tobar  Abarca,  a  friend  of  Montal- 
van, in  a  short  essay  entitled  :  "  Idea  de  la  Comedia  de  Castillaj 
Deduzida  de  las  Obras  del  Doctor  Juan  Perez  de  Montalvan/^  ^ 
gives  an  interesting  contemporary  criticism  of  the  dramatic 
work  of  our  author.  Before  expressing  my  own  judgment  in 
regard  to  his  capabilities  as  a  playwright,  I  shall  give,  as  briefly 
as  possible,  the  gist  of  Pellicer's  essay. 

^  It  is  not  surprising  that  Quevedo  is  missing  among  the  eulogists  of  the 
'  *  Ldgrimas  panegiricas ' '  / 

2  For  the  titles,  vid.  Barrera,  p.  267. 

sSalva,  vol.  I.,  p.  479  ;  Zeitschrift,  vol.  XV.,  p.  220. 

*  Barrera,  p.  268,  gives  the  titles  of  thirty-three  of  these,  while  Rivade- 
neyra,  vol.  45,  p.  liv,  gives  forty-seven  titles. 

5  The  titles  of  these  are  given  by  Barrera,  p.  268.  Schack,  1.  c,  p.  373, 
states  that  the  total  number  of  our  author's  dramatic  productions  was  about 
one  hundli-ed,  but  this  is  probably  an  exaggeration.  Ticknor,  1.  c,  p.  315, 
gives  the  number  as  about  sixty,  and  he  is  probably  nearer  the  truth. 

^Ticknor,  1.  c,  p.  315,  and  note.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  Lope's 
^^  Sin  Seereto  no  hay  Amor^'  was  among  the  pieces  wrongly  attributed  to 
Montalvan. 

^This  forms  part  of  the  "  Ldgrimas  'panegiricas,^^  £F.  147-152. 


(6) 

Starting  with  the  definition  of  drama  as  an  action  which 
teaches  to  imitate  the  good  and  avoid  the  bad  —  thereby  at- 
tributing to  it  a  serious  moral  purpose  —  he  states  that  Mon- 
talvan  always  observed  this  principle  strictly  in  his  plays.  In 
a  style  all  his  own,  energetic  and  elBScacious,  he  exalted  virtue 
and  decried  vice  so  earnestly  that  his  hearers  were  influenced 
to  follow  his  example.  He  knew  how  to  accommodate  himself 
to  the  subject  which  he  was  treating,  and  avoided  introducing 
anything  incongruous  therein.  So  thoroughly  did  he  throw 
himself  into  the  spirit  of  the  scene  that  he  was  writing, 
that  it  appeared  life-like  and  real,  instead  of  artificial.  Re- 
garding legends,  rites  and  ancient  ceremonies  as  unintel- 
ligible to  the  majority  of  his  auditors,  so  ignorant  were 
they,  he  avoided  alluding  to  them.  In  his  love  scenes  he 
observed  such  decorum  that  he  never  overstepped  the  bounds 
of  propriety.  Rarely  did  he  choose  historical  or  idealistic 
subjects,  for  in  employing  them  an  author  must  use  discre- 
tion, since  numerous  occurrences,  either  actual  or  fanciful,  are 
debarred  from  the  stage.  Such  are  the  seditions  of  vassals, 
the  cruelties  of  rulers  towards  their  subjects,  and  the  private 
life  of  great  persons.  He  avoided  the  representation  of  per- 
sonages still  alive  in  his  time.  The  theme  of  jealousy  —  indis- 
pensable to  every  play  —  was  always  for  him  of  the  first 
importance.  In  the  plots  of  his  pieces  he  showed  marvelous 
artifice,  and  involved  them  so  skilfully  that  the  solution  could 
not  be  foreseen  until  after  the  opening  of  the  second  scene  of 
the  third  act.  In  those  plays  which  were  of  involved  plot  he 
used  a  simple  style,  and,  on  the  contrary,  when  the  plot  was 
weak,  he  supplied  the  deficiency  by  the  excellence  of  his  writ- 
ing. Knowing  that  the  action  ought  not  to  be  longer  than 
twenty-four  hours,  he  observed  this  rule  in  the  majority  of  his 
plays,  and  in  those  in  which  he  violated  it,  it  was  due  only  to 
the  demand  of  custom.  To  each  of  the  three  scenes  in  each  act 
he  gave  three  hundred  verses,^  and  never  left  the  stage  unoccu- 

^Ticknor,  1.  c,  p.  321,  in  speaking  of  this  canon,  commits  an  amusing 
error.     He  says:  [Montalvan]  "limited  each  of  the  three  divisions  of  his 


(7) 

pied  if  he  could  avoid  it.  A  good  dramatist  should  possess 
some  knowledge  of  all  subjects/  and  the  reader  of  Mental  van's 
plays  will  find  that  he  fulfills  this  requirement. 

How  one  would  wish  that  all  the  above  enthusiastic  appre- 
ciation of  Montalvan's  dramatic  work  might  be  accepted  as 
truth  !  But  unfortunately  Pellicer  is  a  eulogist,  blind  to  his 
friend's  defects,  and  exception  must  be  taken  to  more  than  one 
of  his  assertions. 

In  the  first  place,  Montalvan's  style  is  generally  far  from  the 
"  energetic  and  efficacious "  one  that  Pellicer  would  have  us 
believe.  So  devoid  was  he  by  nature  of  moving  and  powerful 
poetic  inspiration  that,  as  a  rule,  those  passages  in  which  he 
endeavors  to  enrapture  the  hearer  by  dint  of  would-be  fire  and 
vigor,  frequently  descend  into  mere  hollow  rhetoric  and  empty 
bombast.  As  to  his  not  introducing  the  incongruous,  what  could 
be  more  so,  for  example,  than  the  gradoso  role  in  "  Olympa  y 
fireno  "  or  ^^Los  Amantes  de  Teruel ''  f  Far  from  being  able  to 
throw  himself  into  the  spirit  of  a  scene,  —  thereby  avoiding  arti- 
ficiality, —  Montalvan  possessed  a  genius  so  lacking  in  energy 
that  generally  he  was  incapable  of  infusing  life  into  the  matter 
he  handled.  That  he  was  averse  to  choosing  historical  subjects 
is  disproved  by  a  reference  to  note  1,  page  8,  wherein  the  ques- 
tion of  his  originality  in  subject-matter  is  discussed.  Pellicer's 
statement  regarding  his  "  marvelous  artifice  "  in  plot-construc- 
tion is  as  amusing  as  it  is  incorrect,  for  the  majority  of  his 
plays  suffer  from  a  lack  of  solidity.  They  may  be  said  to  re- 
semble a  series  of  different  scenes,  which,  even  if  they  individ- 

fuU-length  dramas  to  three  hundred  lines.  ..."  One  would  certainly  infer 
that  by  the  word  "divisions"  Ticknor  means  "  acts,"  since  the  plays  of  that 
period  are  based  on  a  three-act  division.  According  to  this,  each  act  would 
consist  of  only  three  hundred  lines  !  Quite  on  the  contrary,  however,  each  of 
the  three  scenes  into  which  the  act  is  divided  comprises  three  hundred  lines, 
making  a  total  of  nine  hundred  lines  for  each  act.  Pellicer' s  own  words  are 
as  follows  :  "Cada  lornada  deve  constar  de  tres  Scenas  ....  A  cada  Scena 
dava  MoNTALBAN  trescientos  Versos,  .  .  .  ." 

^  I  am  warranted  in  epitomizing  Pellicer' s  lengthy  exposition  in  these 
startling  terms,  since  the  list  of  subjects  in  which  he  would  have  the  play- 
wright versed  runs  from  theology  to  navigation  ! 


(8) 

ually  seize  the  attention,  lack  unity  and  aim,  and  accordingly 
make  a  weak  and  superficial  impression. 

But  Montalvan  has  still  other  defects,  which  must  be  ex- 
posed, much  as  the  critic  would  wish,  for  his  credit,  to  pass 
them  by.  One  of  the  most  glaring  of  these  is  his  lack  of  origi- 
nality. His  versatile  talent  was  not  original  or  fresh  enough  to 
create  a  field  in  which  he  might  work  as  his  own ;  in  other 
words  his  genius  was  not  creative  but  adaptive.^  Indeed,  to 
such  an  extent  did  he  allow  himself  to  be  influenced,  now  by 
this  motif,  now  by  that,  that  very  often  his  plays  recall  previous 
productions.  Lope  de  Vega  is,  of  course,  his  chief  model,  but 
Tirso  de  Molina  has  also  exercised  a  visible  influence  upon 
him.  In  one  play,  "  El  Segundo  Seneca  de  Espana/'  he  has 
followed  Enciso.^ 

It  were  surely  no  disgrace  for  Montalvan  to  have  looked  up 
to  Lope  as  a  model,  but  one  would  wish  that  he  had  followed 
him  with  more  exactness  and  earnestness.  It  was  the  fecundity , 
however,  of  his  master  which  most  he  appreciated,  and  accord- 
ingly he  tried  to  rival  him  in  the  number  of  his  productions. 
But  that  were  most  dangerous,  for  as  Schack^  well  says,  ^'  the 
Prodigy  of  Nature,''  i.  e..  Lope,  "was  the  only  one  who 
could  be  both  polygraph  and  true  poet  at  the  same  time." 

Very  naturally  Montalvan  failed  in  his  design,  and,  in  mak- 
ing such  an  attempt,  ruined  the  greater  part  of  his  work.  I  say 
"  ruined,"  because  the  great  majority  of  his  plays  suffer  from 
being  written  too  hurriedly ;  the  blot  appears  almost  everywhere, 
irrespective  of  the  subject  treated.  Too  often,  he  writes  super- 
ficially, cursorily,  without  the  proper  concentration  of  his  facul- 
ties, and  devoid  of  a  fitting*sense  of  artistic  perfection.     Only 

^  The  correctness  of  this  statement  is  proved  by  an  examination  of  the 
forty  plays  which  I  have  read.  Out  of  a  total  of  twenty-five  Comeduis  heroi- 
cas,  fourteen  are  not  original  in  source,  six  of  the  number  being  based  on 
actual  historical  events.  In  the  Capa  y  Espada  class  we  have  a  better  evidence 
of  originality,  for  there,  six  out  of  a  total  of  eight  are  apparently  of  Montal- 
van's  own  invention.  The  religious  plays  I  do  not  take  into  account  at  all, 
for  they  are  of  necessity  derivatives. 

2SchaefFer,  vol.  I.,  p.  442. 

3L.  c,  p.  378. 


(9) 

in  exceptional  cases  is  his  work  seriously  thought  out,  and 
executed  with  care.  How  much  better  had  it  been,  had  he 
tried  to  become  acquainted  with  the  beauties  of  his  model,  and 
striven  to  appropriate  them ;  to  perfect  his  own  faculties,  and 
to  infuse  into  his  productions  that  artistic  fullness  which  was 
Lope's  by  nature. 

Another  serious  defect  is  monotony.  This  is  due,  in  great 
part,  to  the  repeated  employment  of  certain  dramatic  stock 
themes  in  the  plot-construction.  Pellicer,  himself,  remarks  that 
the  subject  of  jealousy,  "  indispensable  to  every  play,"  was 
always  of  the  first  importance  to  Montalvan.  But  this  is  not 
by  any  means  the  only  motif  employed.^  Add  to  the  tedium 
arising  from  this  source,  that  occasioned  by  the  general  same- 
ness of  the  typical  characters.  Again  and  again,  we  have 
the  singularly  stupid  and  easily  duped  father  —  the  mother  is 
very  rarely  mentioned ;  the  forward  and  deceitful  daughter ; 
her  jealous  and  intriguing  friend  —  usually  her  rival  in  love  ; 
the  gay  gallant ;  the  impudent,  familiar  and  easily  bribed  ser- 
vant ;  and  the  inhuman  villain.  There  is  not  much  variation 
to  be  seen  at  any  time  in  this  monotonous  and  uninteresting 
gallery  of  time-worn  portraits. 

Culteranismo,  the  plague  which  played  such  havoc  with  the 
litterateurs  of  the  time,  numbered  our  author  among  its  many 
victims.^     It  is  very  amusing,  therefore,  when  in  the  preface  to 

^  The  other  principal  ones  are  these  :  Persons  of  high  rank  going  about  in- 
cognito (occurs  in  five  plays)  ;  royal  child  sent  away  from  home  to  avoid  the 
cruelty  of  the  stepmother  (two  plays)  ;  duels  (nine  plays)  ;  a  dream  used  to 
disclose  something  before  unknown  (five  plays)  ;  invading  with  an  army  the 
heroine's  country  owing  to  having  been  rejected  by  her  (two  plays)  ;  two 
children  at  first  supposed  to  be  brother  and  sister,  later  found  to  be  no  rela- 
tion (three  plays)  ;  assumed  names  (six  plays)  ;  the  master-key  (four 
plays)  ;  a  conversation  overheard  intentionally  or  accidentally  (seven  plays); 
disguises  (eight  plays)  ;  mistaken  identities  (nine  plays).  I  do  not  claim 
to  have  exhausted  the  whole  number  of  instances  of  these  different  motifs. 
I  have  merely  given  sufficient  examples  to  show  with  what  frequency  they 
are  employed. 

2  The  principal  symptoms  of  this  literary  disease  are  given  by  SchaefFer, 
1.  c,  p.  7.  Calderon  is  responsible  for  the  introduction  of  culteranismo  into  the 
drama,  but  one  is  half -inclined  to  pardon  him,  in  consideration  of  what  he  has 
done  for  the  stage  in  freeing  it  from  the  carelessness  of  Lope. 


(10) 

the  first  volume  of  his  plays,  after  announcing  his  intention  of 
avoiding  the  use  of  the  incomprehensible  language  and  other 
extravagances  of  his  contemporaries,  he  declares  that  those  who 
censure  this  practice  are  the  very  ones  who  make  use  of  it ! 
But  as  the  defect  is  peculiar  to  the  time,  and  not  to  the  man, 
one  must  not  visit  upon  him  too  harsh  a  censure.  Indeed 
much  of  the  popularity  which  several  of  his  plays  enjoyed  was 
due  mainly  to  the  long,  rhetorical  speeches  which  were  inserted 
at  every  opportunity,  and  pleased  both  auditors  and  actors. 
To  the  artistic  sensibilities  of  those  of  the  present  day  these 
same  passages  are  exceedingly  offensive,  for  the  meaningless 
verbosity  and  hollow  bombast  are  tedious  beyond  measure.^ 

It  should  be  remarked  that  many  of  the  plays  are  stronger  in 
the  first  two  acts  than  in  the  third,  for  towards  the  end  there  is 
not  infrequently  a  great  falling  off  in  the  dramatic  interest.  I 
think  that  this  is  due,  in  great  part,  to  the  subject-matter  be- 
ing insufficient  for  the  play  which  is  constructed  out  of  it.  To 
supply  this  deficiency  "  padding  ^'  of  all  kinds  is  resorted  to, 
and  the  gradoso  is  then  looked  to  for  his  share. ^ 

Montalvan's  redeeming  virtues  may  thus  be  described.  He 
has  a  keen  eye  for  a  dramatic  situation  and  the  value  of  a  popu- 
lar story,  and  sometimes  shows  real  cleverness  in  constructing 
quite  a  fair  play  out  of  very  simple  material.*  At  rare  intervals 
we  come  upon  a  real  poetic  passage,  and  indeed  this  very  rarity 
vexes  us  in  that  it  degenerates  so  soon  into  mere  rhetoric.  The 
drawing  of  character  is  very  unequal,  and  while  striking  at  times, 
it  is,  as  a  rule,  only  mediocre.  His  skillful  delineation  of  women, 
however,  shows  that  he  possessed  such  a  good  knowledge  of  the 
feminine  temperament  that  he  might  almost  be  accorded  a  place 

^  As  brief  specimens  of  Montal van's  culteranismo,  these  may  be  given  :  Esta 
68  concha  de  una  perla  que  adoro,"  uttered  by  a  gallant  in  reference  to  the 
dwelling  of  his  loved  one.  An  army  of  Ethiopians  is  described  as  "  Un 
arroyo  de  carbon,  un  mar  de  tinta." 

2  Pellicer  declares,  with  evident  pride,  that  where  the  plot  was  weak  Mon- 
tal van  made  reparation  by  the  "excellence  of  his  writing."  To  the  critic 
of  to-day  the  correctness  of  this  statement  seems  rather  doubtful. 

^*'El  Principe  prodigioso  y  Defensor  de  la  i^e"  and  ^'Eldivino  Nazareno 
Sanson'^  may  be  cited  as  examples. 


(11) 

second  to  Ovid,  than  whom  none  was  superior  in  this  respect. 
This  admirable  trait  he  derived  in  a  great  measure  from  his 
master,  Lope,  whose  female  characters  are  living  beings  in  com- 
parison with  the  artificial  creations  of  Calderon.  Tirso  de  Molina 
has  also  suggested  to  him  certain  types.  In  the  religious  pieces 
he  ventured  to  differ  from  Lope,  in  order  to  give  to  them  the 
popular  character  which  the  latter  had  sacrificed  in  his  allegorical 
moralities.  But  they  are  dismal  failures.  It  is  in  the  plays  of 
intrigue  that,  on  the  whole,  he  is  at  his  best,  but  there  we  must 
close  our  eyes  to  improbability.  The  critic  is  forced  to  admit 
that  the  defects  of  our  author  so  outclass  his  merits  that  he  can 
be  placed  no  higher  than  the  second  rank  of  the  old  Spanish 
playwrights. 

Concerning  Montalvan's  system  of  versification  a  detailed 
account  is  given  by  Pellicer.^  He  says  that  in  the  Tragic  style 
he  made  use  of  Octaves,  Canzones,  Silvas  and  Romanees,  in 
place  of  the  more  usual  Tercets,  the  employment  of  which  in  this 
style  had  been  introduced  by  Garcilaso.'^  In  the  Lyric  style 
he  made  use  of  DedmaSy  Endechas,  LiraSj  QuebradoSy  Glossas 
and  Sonnets.^  To  these  he  sometimes  added  the  Romance,  as 
a  metre  suited  to  all  styles.  In  the  Heroic  style  he  employed 
the  Octave,  Canzone,  Silva  and  Romance.  On  account  of 
their  hardness  he  excluded  the  Esdruxulos^ — the  dactylic 
measure  —  and  blank  verse,  but  not  the  Coplas  de  Arte  mayor. ^ 
The  Redondillas  and  Quintillas  ^  he  used  only  to  involve  the 
plot  —  i.  e.y  they  were  employed  only  in  the  narrative  part  in 
which  the  plot  is  developed. 

These  theories  are,  however,  not  our  author^ s  original  prop- 
erty, but  merely  repetitions  of  Lope's  precepts  in  the  "  Arte 


iL.  c.,f.  148. 

2  Definitions  of  these  measures  are  given  by  Kengifo  on  pages  91,  108,  58 
and  59  respectively. 

3Vid.  ib.,  pp.  37,  67,  89,  17,  72  and  95,  respectively. 

*Vid.  ib.,p.  20. 

6Vid.  ib.,  p.  82. 

«Vid.  ib.,  p.  32  ff. 

''  Fitzmaurice-Kelly,  p.  418. 


(12) 

More  than  one  passage  in  Montalvan's  plays  recalls  in  thought 
and  tone  the  works  of  Ovid,  even  though  an  exact  resemblance 
between  them  cannot  be  found.  A  passage  thoroughly  O vid- 
ian in  flavor  is  the  speech  of  Estela  in  Act  II.  of  "  No  hay 
Vida  como  la  Honra/^  in  which  she  endeavors  to  induce  Fer- 
nando to  transfer  his  affections  to  her  from  Leonor  in  order 
that  the  latter  may  be  left  free  to  marry  Carlos.^  One  can 
easily  imagine  that  such  a  sentiment  might  have  proceeded 
from  the  pen  of  the  author  of  the  "  Bemedia  Amoris/'  and, 
indeed,  it  is  the  very  same  idea  that  is  expressed  in  the  first  five 
lines  of  Estela's  speech  that  forms  the  theme  of  11.  315-340 
of  the  Latin  poem  just  mentioned.  Here  Ovid  gives  precepts 
to  the  lover  who  wishes  to  forget  his  mistress.  Other  exam- 
ples of  a  more  or  less  close  similarity  between  the  pagan  author 
and  ours  might  be  given.  Perhaps  they  are  merely  acciden- 
tal, but  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that  Montalvan  was  acquainted 
with  Ovid's  works,  for  he  knew  Latin. 

The  pointed,  epigrammatic  style  of  many  lines  in  our  author, 
and  also  their  pungent,  sarcastic  tone  smack  much  of  the  caustic 
spirit  of  the  Latin  satirist,  Juvenal.  In  one  case  that  I  have 
observed,  the  parallelism  is  so  close  that  perhaps  we  have  an 
intentional  imitation.  In  "Jlmor,  Privanza  y  Castigo/^  Act  II., 
Drusus  speaking  of  Sejanus  as  a  flatterer  says  : 

» The  opening  lines  run  as  follows : 

[sc.  Puedes  olvidarte  de  Leonor  en] 

Imaginando 
Imperfecciones ;  que  cuando 
Llega  a  pensar  el  amor 
Fealdades,  ya  estd  vecino 
A  no  ser  amor  ;  y  asl, 
Por  agradarte  de  mf, 
Puedes  tambien  de  camino 
Pensar  que  soy  la  mujer 
Mas  bella  del  mundo  ;  mira 
Alaba,  encarece,  admira, 
Aunque  sea  sin  querer, 
La  hennosura  de  mi  boca  ; 


(13) 

"  Si  se  rie,  se  rie,  aunque  no  quiera, 
si  llora,  tambien  llora,  que  parece 
que  tiene  las  passiones  en  las  manos." 

Compare  this  with  Juvenal,  Satire  III.,  11.  100  and  101. 

"...  Rides,  majore  cachinno 
Concutitur ;  flet,  si  lacrimas  conspexit  amici. 
Nee  dolet." 

The  resemblance  is  striking. 

We  have  an  echo  of  Juvenal  in  idea,  if  not  in  words,  in  the 
speech  of  Monzon  in  Act  I.  of  "  La  Doncella  de  Labor/^  be- 
ginning : 

"  Que  si  la  muerte 
Presurosa  no  tuviera," 

Here  he  upholds  the  advantages  of  a  sudden  death,  without 
the  decedent's  having  made  a  will,  by  depicting  the  dying  man, 
who,  having  made  his  last  testament,  is  surrounded  by  his  pros- 
pective heirs,  who  are  vexed  that  death  should  be  so  slow  in 
coming  to  him.  The  passage  abounds  in  sarcasm  and  may  be 
compared  with  Juvenal,  Satire  I.,  11.  145  and  146,^  where  he  is 
speaking  of  a  man  who  has  died  intestate,  and  whose  friends  are 
angry  that  they  have  been  left  nothing. 

To  criticise  Montalvan's  work  fairly  is  not  an  easy  task,  for 
one  must  place  himself  in  the  time  and  atmosphere  in  which 
he  lived,  if  he  would  judge  him  justly.  He  was  a  real  child  of 
his  time,  and  was  swayed  wholly  by  the  taste  of  the  period. 
What  was  then  applauded  in  a  drama  would  now  probably  be 
hissed,  so  utterly  have  the  standards  of  dramatic  perfection  been 
transformed.  His  defects,  then,  are  more  typical  of  the  time 
than  of  himself.  For  us,  however,  he  is  an  aggravating  writer, 
in  that  he,  as  Fitzmaurice-Kelly  ^  says  even  of  Lope,  con- 
stantly approaches  perfection  without  ever  quite  attaining  it. 

^  It  nova,  nee  tristis,  per  cunctas  fabula  coenas, 
Ducitur  iratis  plaudendum  funus  amicis. 
2  P.  347. 


(14) 

Often  he  gives  us  promise  of  excellence,  only  later  to  disap- 
point us.  That  his  plays  were  popular  is  attested  by  abundant 
evidence,  but  there  is  much  in  them  that  would  have  to  be 
revised  or  entirely  omitted  before  they  could  be  represented  at 
the  present  day.  We  must  remember,  however,  that  much 
that  we  would  cut  out  is  what  gave  the  greatest  delight  to  the 
audiences  of  over  two  hundred  years  ago. 


III.   Analysis. 

(a)      COMEDIAS    HEROIC  AS. 

El  Reynar  jpara  Morir. 

(To  Reign  only  to  Die.) 

Act  I. 

Ariolante,  King  of  Athens  and  Sparta,  realized  that  on  ac- 
count of  his  great  age  he  had  but  a  short  time  longer  to  live. 
Having  no  male  heir  to  succeed  him,  and  being  desirous  of 
knowing  something  regarding  the  King  who  should  rule  after 
him,  he  propounded  this  question  to  his  astrologer,  Aristippo. 
The  seer  informed  him  that  whoever  his  successor  might  be,  his 
reign  would  not  last  longer  than  a  year,  for  within  that  time 
he  would  meet  with  a  violent  death.  Ariolante  confided  this 
awful  revelation  to  no  one  except  his  adviser,  Cleon,  whom  he 
ordered  secretly  to  consult  the  oracle  of  Apollo  for  a  denial  or 
confirmation  of  the  prophecy.  The  oracle  repeated  thrice  what 
Aristippo  had  already  said,  whereupon  Ariolante,  thoroughly 
frightened  and  fearful  that  the  prophecy  might  become  known, 
banished  Aristippo  from  the  country.  Out  of  revenge,  howr 
ever,  the  seer  disclosed  the  dreadful  secret,  and  accordingly, 
when  Ariolante  died,  no  one  could  be  found  who  was  willing  to 
take  his  place.  The  courtiers  were  in  despair,  and  realizing 
that  tumult  and  sedition  might  arise  in  the  absence  of  a  ruler, 
decided  to  consult  the  oracle  as  to  what  they  should  do.     They 


(15  ) 

received  the  answer  that  whosoever,  the  following  day,  should 
first  enter  their  city  —  Athens  —  would  be  their  King. 

When  this  revelation  is  disclosed  to  the  people,  all  are  satis- 
fied, and  next  day,  at  dawn,  they  gather  about  the  gates  to  await 
the  arrival  of  the  unknown.  He  soon  appears  in  the  person  of 
Aristomenes,  who,  amidst  shouts  of  welcome,  is  unanimously 
proclaimed  King.  Naturally,  the  new-comer  is  quite  at  a  loss 
how  to  account  for  such  unexpected  good-fortune,  but  Cleon 
gives  a  very  plausible  excuse  for  their  unique  method  of  choos- 
ing a  ruler,  and  conducts  him  to  the  palace. 

Meantime,  Lisandro,  Prince  of  Thessaly  and  rightful  heir 
to  the  kingdom,  has  come  to  claim  it  and  marry  the  Prin- 
cess Irene,  his  cousin,  but  when  he  hears  the  great  risk  attend- 
ing his  becoming  King,  he  decides  not  to  ascend  the  throne.  He 
is  conversing  with  Irene  and  asserting  that  only  his  love  for 
her,  and  not  lack  of  courage,  prevents  him  from  becoming 
King,  when  shouts  are  heard  and  Aristomenes  appears.  In  a 
long  speech  to  the  people  he  tells  the  story  of  his  life,  and,  be- 
fore he  has  concluded,  Irene  becomes  enamored  of  him.  She 
decides  to  warn  him  of  his  danger,  and  accordingly,  soon  after 
his  coronation,  he  receives  a  letter  from  her,  in  which,  without 
giving  her  name,  she  reveals  the  strange  circumstances  under 
which  he  was  chosen  King.  When  he  has  read  it,  he  commu- 
nicates what  he  has  learned  to  the  courtiers,  but  declares  that 
this  will  not  prevent  him  from  fulfilling  his  duty  as  King. 

Ad  11. 
Lisandro,  convinced  that  Aristomenes  and  Irene  are  now 
in  love  with  each  other,  is  mad  with  jealousy,  and  decides 
to  effect  the  murder  of  his  rival.  With  this  intent  he  sends 
a  message  to  his  brother,  the  King  of  Thessaly,  asking  him  at 
once  to  dispatch  one  Alciades  to  Athens  that  he  may  kill 
Aristomenes.  Alciades,  being  unknown,  can  commit  the  crime 
and  escape  with  less  danger  of  apprehension  than  he  himself; 
if  he  were  to  effect  it,  he  would  no  doubt  be  put  to  death  on 
the  spot  by  the  infuriated  populace. 


(16) 

Soon  after  having  dispatched  the  messenger  to  Thessaly, 
Lisandro  overhears  a  conversation  between  Aristomenes  and 
Irene,  and  enraged  at  the  clear  evidences  of  their  mutual  affec- 
tion, draws  a  dagger  and,  under  the  pretense  that  he  is  seeking 
self-destruction,  thinks  to  stab  the  King.  The  latter,  however, 
is  on  his  guard  for  such  treachery,  and  unsheathes  his  sword, 
whereupon  Lisandro,  surprised,  lets  fall  the  dagger  to  the  floor. 

Act  III. 

Several  incidents  have  occurred  which  have  served  to  in- 
crease the  hatred  of  Lisandro  toward  Aristomenes,  and,  one 
day,  so  furious  does  he  become  at  Irene's  indifference,  that  he 
declares  to  her  that  he  will  avenge  himself  by  killing  his  rival 
before  her  very  eyes.  On  this,  she  coolly  bids  him  look  at 
himself  in  a  mirror  and  see  how  pleasant  he  appears  in  his 
fury,  and  then  abruptly  leaves  him.  Lisandro  is  wild  with 
rage,  and  in  this  condition  is  discovered  by  Aristomenes.  The 
latter  declares  that  if  disappointment  in  not  being  King  plays 
any  part  in  his  anger,  he  shall  suffer  from  this  no  longer, 
and  at  once  offers  him  the  crown.  Lisandro  accepts,  explain- 
ing that  no  lack  of  courage,  but  only  his  love  for  Irene 
and  desire  not  to  leave  her  a  widow  prevented  him  from  be- 
coming King  before.  By  all  the  people  he  is  now  proclaimed 
ruler,  and,  immediately  after  this,  he  orders  that  Aristomenes 
be  beheaded.  His  ostensible  reason  for  such  a  cruel  command 
is  that,  according  to  the  prophecy,  the  first  King  would  die 
unexpectedly  within  the  year ;  consequently,  as  this  time  has 
not  yet  expired,  if  Aristomenes  meet  death,  his  own  life  will  be 


Some  time  before  this,  Aristomenes  had  been  informed  of 
Lisandro's  design  against  his  life  by  a  letter  from  Aristippo, 
and  accordingly,  when  Alciades  arrived  from  Thessaly,  he  caused 
the  latter  to  be  imprisoned.  For  this  reason  Alciades  has  seen 
neither  Aristomenes  nor  Lisandro.  He  is  now  released,  and 
unaware  that  Aristomenes  is  no  longer  King,  espies  Lisandro 
conversing  with  Irene  in  the  King's  closet.     Hearing  Lisandro 


(17) 

call  himself  King,  Alciades  of  course  supposes  that  he  is 
Aristomenes,  and  rushing  upon  him  with  a  dagger,  kills  him. 
Irene,  horrified,  cries  for  help,  and  the  courtiers  appear,  together 
with  Aristomenes,  whose  life  has  been  spared  by  them  in  spite 
of  Lisandro^s  order.  Alciades,  after  confessing  the  mistake  he 
has  made  and  the  real  object  of  his  mission,  is  condemned  by 
Aristomenes  to  be  hurled  from  a  lofty  rock,  while  the  latter, 
again  proclaimed  King,  thanks  the  people  for  their  loyalty,  and 
marries  Irene. 

(II.) 

El  Segundo  Seneca  de  Espana. 
(The  Second  Seneca  of  Spain.) 

Act  L 

Santoyo,  an  old  -fnan  and  the  counsellor  of  King  Philip  the 
Second,  reads  to  his  Majesty  a  letter  from  the  JSTetherlauds,  in 
which  they  demand  freedom  of  thought  without  oppression  by 
the  Inquisition.  When  Santoyo  has  concluded,  Philip  declares 
that  he  will  not  accede  to  the  demands  of  the  Dutch,  and  will 
dispatch  the  Duke  of  Alva  to  curb  their  rebellious  spirit,  add- 
ing that  he  would  rather  relinquish  to  them  the  whole  King- 
dom than  permit  them  to  be  heretics. 

A  woman,  Ota  via,  clad  in  mourning,  now  endeavors  to 
come  before  the  King,  but  a  guard  rudely  thrusts  her  back,  and 
speaks  to  her  in  a  threatening  tone.  The  disturbance  hav- 
ing attracted  Philip's  attention,  he  asks  one  of  the  courtiers 
the  cause  of  it,  and  being  informed,  sternly  reprimands  the 
guard  for  ill-treating  a  woman.  He  then  bids  Otavia  step 
forward,  and  asks  her  what  favor  she  desires.  She  tells  him 
that  she  is  a  widow,  and  that  her  son,  aged  fifteen  years,  has 
been  sentenced  to  death  for  having  committed  a  murder. 
Begging  that  he  be  spared,  she  asks  that  he  be  allowed  to  be- 
come a  soldier  and  have  the  opportunity  of  sacrificing  his  life 
in  a  better  cause  —  that  of  fighting  for  his  King.  Philip  grants 
her  prayer,  but  declares  that  he  does  so  only  out  of  sympathy, 


(18) 

and  not  deliberately  to  reverse  the  judicial  decision,  which  was 
just. 

Lady  Leonor,  having  learned  that  her  lover,  Don  Juan  of 
Austria,  half  brother  of  the  King,  has  been  ordered  by  the  latter 
to  lead  an  army  against  the  rebellious  Moors  in  Granada,  writes 
a  letter  to  Juan,  reproving  him  for  intending  to  desert  her.  Just 
as  she  has  finished  the  letter,  Juan  appears,  and  she  greets  him 
very  coolly.  After  a  long  conversation  between  them,  however, 
Leonor  shows  that  she  is  less  vexed,  and  Juan  takes  his  leave, 
promising  to  return  that  night,  to  say  farewell  before  his  departure. 

Santoyo  reads  to  Philip,  late  one  night,  a  number  of  petitions, 
and  after  the  King  has  passed  upon  them  and  given  his  reasons 
for  granting  or  refusing  each  one,  his  Majesty  withdraws  to  write 
a  letter  to  the  Pope,  Pius  V.  Therein  he  gives  his  reasons 
for  not  entering  into  the  Holy  League,  but  promises  to  send 
orders  to  his  Viceroys  to  protect  the  city  of  Venice.  When 
he  has  finished  the  communication,  he  reappears,  and  bids 
Santoyo  read  and  seal  it.  During  his  absence,  however,  the 
old  man  has  fallen  asleep,  and,  of  course,  makes  no  reply. 
Philip  then  tries  to  awake  him,  but  is  only  partly  successful. 
Notwithstanding,  he  hands  him  the  letter,  and  asks  him  to  blot 
and  seal  it.  Santoyo,  in  a  mechanical  and  listless  way,  then 
seizes  the  inkstand,  and  assuming  it  to  be  the  sand-box,  empties 
its  contents  over  the  sheet.  Philip  is  startled,  but  does  not  lose 
his  temper,  and  telling  the  old  man  to  get  wide-awake,  with- 
draws to  write  his  letter  over  again. 

Act  IT. 

During  the  time  that  is  supposed  to  have  elapsed  since  the 
close  of  the  preceding  act,  Santoyo  has  died,  and  is  mourned  by 
all  except  the  Prince,  Don  Carlos.  The  cause  of  Carlos' s  ill- 
feeling  toward  Santoyo  is  to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  he  believes 
that  he  advised  Philip  not  to  allow  him,  the  Prince,  to  take 
part  in  the  campaign  in  Flanders. 

Carlos  is  very  jealous  of  the  Duke  of  Alva,  whom  Philip  has 
selected  as  leader  of  the  invasion,  for  he  feels  that  he  is  hold- 


(19) 

ing  a  position  which  by  right  belongs  only  to  himself.  Ac- 
cordingly, when  he  now  meets  the  Duke,  he  tries  to  dissuade 
him  from  taking  part  in  the  campaign,  but  his  efforts  are  fruit- 
less, for  the  other  declares  that  such  is  the  King's  desire  and  he 
must  comply  with  it.  Carlos  then  becomes  furious,  and  making 
a  savage  lunge  at  him  with  a  dagger,  the  Duke  saves  his  life 
only  by  seizing  the  Prince's  arm.  At  this  juncture  the  King 
appears,  and  Carlos  retiring,  his  Majesty  bids  the  Duke  relate 
the  cause  of  the  quarrel.  He  does  so,  and  when  he  has  finished, 
Philip  is  not  a  little  vexed  at  his  passionate  son. 

Carlos  vows  vengeance  upon  the  Duke,  and  is  more  firm  than 
ever  in  his  resolve  to  kill  him.  He  decides  to  invoke  the  aid 
of  his  uncle,  Juan,  who  has  now  returned  from  the  Moorish 
campaign,  but  when,  one  night,  he  makes  known  to  him  his 
desire,  Juan,  of  course,  refuses  to  listen  to  it.  While  they  are 
arguing  they  draw  near  the  house  of  Leonor,  and  Carlos,  assert- 
ing that  he  has  heard  of  her  great  beauty,  expresses  a  desire 
to  see  her.  Very  naturally,  Juan  is  by  no  means  pleased  at 
this,  and  tries  to  dissuade  the  Prince  from  such  a  notion  by 
stating  that  he  would  run  the  risk  of  meeting  her  parents  and 
brother.  But  Carlos,  true  to  his  stubborn  nature,  is  not  to  be 
so  easily  turned  aside,  and  orders  Juan  to  call  Leonor  at  once, 
else  he  will  break  in  the  door.  Juan  sees  himself  forced  to 
acquiesce,  and  summoning  his  loved  one  to  the  grating,  tells 
her,  in  anxious  tones,  of  his  predicament.  She  is  by  no  means 
confused,  and  bids  him  tell  the  Prince  to  approach.  Juan  does 
so,  and  Carlos  is  delighted,  for  he  supposes  he  is  to  be  admitted 
at  once  to  the  house.  He  is  doomed  to  disappointment,  how- 
ever, for  his  entreaties  and  arguments  are  answered  only  by 
good-natured  banterings  on  the  part  of  Leonor.  Finally,  he 
loses  his  temper,  and  becomes  so  impudent  that  she  closes  the 
window  in  his  face.  Carlos  is  wild  with  rage,  and  uttering  all 
sorts  of  threats,  is  led  away  by  his  uncle  to  the  palace.  Ar- 
rived there,  they  are  involved  in  a  heated  dispute  as  to  the 
merits  of  their  respective  fathers,  and  so  loudly  does  Carlos 
express  himself  that  the  King  is  attracted  to  the  spot.     Dis- 


(20) 

missing  Juan,  Philip  asks  Carlos  the  cause  of  their  dispute, 
and  after  reprimanding  him,  orders  him  to  bed. 

Act  III. 

Philip,  having  heard  that  the  people  are  continually  com- 
plaining of  Carlos's  actions,  is  angered,  and  decides  to  have 
an  inter\'iew  with  him.  He  accordingly  sends  a  courtier 
to  seek  him,  and  the  latter  finds  him  playing  ball,  in  an  en- 
deavor to  forget  an  attack  of  the  ague  from  which  he  is  suf- 
fering. When  he  comes  before  his  father,  Philip  tells  him 
that  he  is  much  displeased  with  him,  and  that  if  he  does  not 
change  his  demeanor  it  will  go  hard  with  him.  Hereupon 
Carlos  declares  that  his  ambition  has  been  sorely  disap- 
pointed, for  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  desired  to  lead  the 
troops  in  Flanders,  the  Duke  of  Alva  was  permitted  to  go  in- 
stead ;  the  sending  of  the  Duke  meant  nothing  less  than  that 
he  was  unworthy  of  such  an  honorable  and  responsible  position. 
Even  before  he  has  finished  his  speech,  he  is  seized  by  the  ague, 
which  finally  becomes  so  violent  that  his  father,  forgetting  his 
anger,  is  overcome  with  compassion,  and  calling  the  attendants, 
has  him  carried  to  his  apartment. 

The  Cardinal  now  enters,  bearing  a  document  relative  to 
Philip's  approaching  marriage  with  his  niece,  Anne  of  Austria, 
daughter  of  Maximilian  II.,  Emperor  of  Germany.  By  its 
terms,  she  is  to  bring  with  her,  as  a  dowry,  one  hundred  thou- 
sand crowns,  and,  as  earnest  money,  a  like  amount.  Should 
she  outlive  the  King,  she  will  receive  forty-six  thousand  ducats 
a  year,  provided  she  does  not  remarry.  The  paper  also  stipu- 
lates that  Isabel,  another  daughter  of  Maximilian,  shall  be- 
come the  bride  of  Charles  IV.  of  France,  while  Margarita, 
the  daughter  of  the  latter,  shall  marry  the  King  of  Portugal. 
Philip  places  his  seal  on  the  document,  and  then  orders  that  to 
the  Archduke,  who  has  brought  it  to  Court,  shall  be  given  a 
hundred  thousand  ducats. 

Soon  after  the  Cardinal  has  withdrawn,  Juan  enters,  and 
upon  Philip  inquiring  about  Carlos,   he  tells   him   that   the 


(21) 

Prince  asks  permission  to  retire  for  a  short  time  from  Court  to 
Alcala,  for  the  benefit  of  his  health.  The  King  grants  his  son's 
request,  and  then  informs  Juan  that  he  has  been  chosen  by  the 
Pope  to  be  general  of  the  League  against  Selim   and  Mustafa. 

In  response  to  his  Majesty's  summons,  Pompeyo,  a  sculptor, 
now  appears,  and  Philip  orders  him  to  complete  as  soon  as  j5os- 
sible  some  unfinished  bronze  figures  that  are  to  decorate  the 
garden  of  San  Lorenzo.  Pompeyo  states  that  the  delay  is 
caused  by  a  scarcity  of  workmen,  whereupon  the  King  orders 
him  to  obtain  them  from  Italy  and  Germany.  Pompeyo  now 
asserts  that  his  son,  who  is  in  prison  at  Zaragoza  for  killing  an 
oflScer  while  resisting  arrest,  is  an  expert  sculptor,  and  would 
be  of  great  aid  to  him.  When  Philip  hears  this,  he  declares 
that  he  shall  be  set  at  liberty. 

Receiving  word  from  the  Archbishop  of  Seville  that  Anne  of 
Austria  is  approaching  Segovia,  Philip  repairs  thither,  and 
meets  her,  accompanied  by  her  two  brothers.  After  the  usual 
courtesies  have  been  exchanged,  the  Archbishop  bestows  the 
nuptial  blessings  upon  the  couple,  and  prepares  to  celebrate  the 
marriage  ceremony  on  the  following  day. 

(b)    COMEDIAS   DE    CaPA   Y    EsPADA. 

Como  Amante  y  como  Honrada 
(  As  Loving  and  as  Honored.) 

Act  I. 
Don  Lope  de  Guzman  has  just  returned  to  Madrid  from  the 
war  in  Flanders,  in  order  to  marry  his  cousin,  Leonor,  daugh- 
ter of  Don  Pedro.  Putting  up  at  an  inn,  he  sends  word  to 
Pedro  of  his  arrival,  and  then  starts  out  with  his  servant, 
Martin,  for  a  promenade.  They  have  not  gone  far  when  they 
hear  the  clash  of  swords,  and  see  four  men  attacking  one  whom 
Lope  recognizes  as  his  friend,  Juan  de  la  Cueva.  He  hurries 
to  his  aid,  and  with  the  assistance  of  Martin,  puts  to  flight  his 


(22) 

adversaries.  Juan  thanks  Lope  for  his  timely  intercession,  and 
at  his  request  to  know  the  cause  of  the  quarrel,  tells  him  that 
it  was  concerning  a  lady  whom  he  loves.  Since  the  death  of 
her  parents,  three  months  before,  she  had  been  in  a  convent,  and 
when,  to-day,  she  made  her  first  appearance  in  public  she  was 
annoyed  by  the  persistent  attentions  of  a  gay  gallant.  Juan 
very  naturally  objected,  and  then  the  gallant,  angered,  attacked 
him. 

Juan  now  asks  Lope  the  cause  of  his  unexpected  return  to 
Madrid,  for  when  he  left  Flanders  he  had  supposed  that  Lope 
would  yet  remain  there  some  time.  Lope  tells  him  that  he  has 
come  to  marry  his  cousin, — not  mentioning  her  name,  how- 
ever,— and  that  the  marriage,  which  is  to  take  place  the  com- 
ing evening  at  her  uncle's,  Don  Pedro's,  will  be  a  very  quiet 
one,  on  account  of  the  recent  death  of  her  parents.  Juan  is 
greatly  disconcerted  at  this,  for  he  is  in  love  with  Leonor's 
sister.  Ana,  (who  also  lives  with  her  uncle),  and  is  fearful 
that  it  may  be  she  whom  Lope  is  going  to  marry.  To  put  an 
end  to  this  horrible  suspicion,  he  hurries  away  to  interview  his 
mistress,  leaving  Lope  to  meet  Pedro,  who  is  seen  approach- 
ing them. 

Ana  assures  her  lover  that  his  fears  are  groundless,  for  Lope 
is  to  marry  Leonor,  and  not  her.  She  does  not  reveal  to  him, 
however,  that  in  accordance  with  a  request  made,  this  day,  by 
Leonor  to  Pedro,  she  is  to  become  his  wife  on  Leonor's  mar- 
riage. The  cause  for  concealing  from  Juan  this  glad  news  is 
that  Pedro,  for  his  own  reasons,  has  requested  both  Leonor  and 
Ana  to  keep  it  a  secret  till  after  Leonor  shall  have  become  the 
wife  of  Lope.  But  Ines,  the  servant  of  Ana,  has  overheard 
this  agreement  of  secrecy,  and  now,  to  Ana's  utter  dismay,  de- 
clares to  Juan  that  he  is  to  be  the  husband  of  her  mistress.  Of 
course,  Juan  is  overjoyed,  but,  to  his  great  surprise  and  disap- 
pointment. Ana,  after  telling  him  why  he  has  to  observe  secrecy, 
positively  forbids  his  calling  upon  her,  adding  that  such  a  pre- 
caution is  indispensable  to  their  honor.  Juan  is  astonished, 
but  promises  to  obey  her  command. 


(23) 

Pedro  and  Lope  now  arrive,  and  Juan,  not  desiring  to  be  seen, 
withdraws.  Pedro,  however,  has  caught  just  a  glimpse  of  his 
retreating  figure,  and  asking  Ines  who  it  is,  receives  the  answer  : 
"  A  squire  who  has  just  come  with  a  message.''  Lope  over- 
hears this,  and  his  jealousy  is  at  once  aroused,  for  he  imagines 
that  in  the  sender  of  the  message  Leonor  has  some  other  ad- 
mirer. He  is,  of  course,  quite  unaware  that  Ines'  reply  was 
intended  solely  to  deceive  Pedro,  for  she  did  not  wish  him 
to  know  that  Juan  had  been  in  the  house. 

On  entering.  Lope  had  observed  a  man — Mendo,  Juan's 
servant,  whom  he  did  not  know  —  standing  near  the  door, 
and  this  further  increases  his  suspicions,  for  he  connects  him 
with  the  mysterious  squire.  Full  of  these  absurd  ideas,  he  is, 
of  course,  easily  in  a  condition  to  foster  others,  and  is  therefore 
startled  when  Leonor  tells  him  that  she  has  been  in  a  convent 
since  the  death  of  her  parents  ;  she  has  refrained  from  speaking 
of  it  before,  not  wishing  to  worry  him.  What  Juan  had  con- 
fided to  him  regarding  his  inamorata  now  comes  forcibly  before 
him,  and  not  knowing  that  Ana  has  also  been  in  the  convent 
with  Leonor,  he  gives  a  start,  and  becomes  so  pale  that  Leonor 
asks  him  if  he  is  ill.  He  also  remembers  Juan's  confusion 
when  he  told  him  of  his  intention  to  marry  his  cousin.  All 
this  now  piles  up  before  Lope  and  almost  convinces  him  that 
Leonor  has  been  unfaithful  to  him,  and  that  Juan  intends  to 
take  her  for  his  wife.  Accordingly,  wishing  to  gain  time  in 
order  to  investigate  this  apparent  deception,  he  pleads  excessive 
fatigue,  and  tells  her  he  must  postpone  their  marriage  till  the 
morrow.  Leonor,  feeling  that  Lope's  excuse  is  but  a  subterfuge, 
and  that  he  has  taken  offense  at  something  she  has  done,  bursts 
into  tears. 

Act  11. 

Two  months  have  passed  since  Lope's  arrival  in  Madrid,  and 
although  he  has  neither  seen  nor  heard  anything  which  might 
serve  to  confirm  his  suspicions  regarding  Leonor's  fidelity,  yet 
he  has  abandoned  her.  But  the  sacrifice  has  cost  him  not  a 
little  anxiety  and  unrest,  and  has  affected  him  to  such  a  degree 
that  he  acts  at  times  as  though  his  mind  were  unbalanced. 


(24) 

Juan,  among  others,  has  noticed  his  look  of  exceeding  worri- 
ment,  and  asks  him  the  cause.  Lope,  of  course,  not  wish- 
ing to  reveal  the  truth,  replies  that  soon  after  his  arrival 
a  new  beauty  absorbed  all  his  love  for  Leonor,  and  for  this 
reason  he  wishes  at  least  to  postpone  indefinitely  his  marriage 
with  her,  if  he  cannot  permanently  annul  it.  Juan  is  in  des- 
pair at  this  declaration,  for  he  sees  that  it  means  that  Ana  may 
never  become  his  wife,  if  Pedro^s  order  regarding  the  secrecy 
of  their  engagement  is  observed.  Lope,  in  turn,  now  asks 
Juan  how  his  love  affairs  are  progressing,  and  Juan,  in  the 
same  spirit  of  reserve,  replies  that  they  are  greatly  "  hindered 
by  a  certain  inconvenience."  In  his  usual  rash  way.  Lope  as- 
sumes that  the  "  inconvenience  "  is  none  other  than  he  himself, 
and  thereby  adds  to  his  suspicions  and  anxiety. 

For  some  time,  Martin,  the  servant  of  Lope,  has  imagined 
that  his  master's  shameful  neglect  of  Leonor  is  due  to  his  love 
for  Ana,  and  moved  to  pity  for  the  unhappy  lady,  he  com- 
municates his  belief  to  Ines.  The  latter,  of  course,  passes  it  on 
to  Leonor,  who  is  greatly  surprised,  and  declares  that  she  will 
take  vengeance  on  Lope  for  his  base  desertion  and  infidelity. 

Pedro,  who  has  heard  some  suspicious  reports  concerning  the 
reason  of  Lope's  postponing  so  long  his  marriage,  asks  him  to 
tell  him  the  real  motive  for  his  dilatoriness.  Lope  asserts  that 
he  is  seeking  preferment,  and  until  he  attains  it  must  remain 
single,  for  if  a  soldier,  after  leaving  the  array,  marry  before  he 
gains  his  pretension,  his  past  services  will  be  forgotten  and  un- 
rewarded. Pedro  remains  entirely  satisfied  with  this  explana- 
tion, and  bids  Lope  go  to  Leonor  and  console  her  by  telling 
her  the  reason  for  his  apparent  indifference. 

Ana,  who,  like  Juan,  has  become  very  fearful  that  their  mar- 
riage may  never  be  consummated,  takes  occasion  to  sound  Lope 
regarding  his  marriage.  He  is  uncommunicative,  however,  on 
this  subject,  and  Ana  learns  nothing  more  than  she  already 
knew.  The  pair  are  quite  unaware  that  they  have  been  seen 
speaking  together  by  Leonor,  and  after  Lope  has  departed  she 
makes  known  her  presence  to  Ana.     The  latter,  in  good  faith, 


(25) 

urges  Leonor  publicly  to  break  her  engagement  with  Lope,  as- 
suring her  that  on  good  authority  —  not  naming  Juan  —  she 
knows  that  Lope  is  in  love  with  another  whom  he  intends 
marrying.  She  concludes  her  long  speech  by  declaring  she 
will  rather  annul  her  own  marriage  with  Juan  than  see  Leonor 
overlook  such  base  deception.  Leonor,  however,  is  full  of  sus- 
picion and  jealousy  regarding  Lope's  imagined  relations  with 
Ana,  and  therefore,  to  the  latter^s  great  surprise,  she  furiously 
accuses  her  of  deception  and  conduct  ill  becoming  a  sister. 
Asked  what  the  trouble  is,  Leonor  angrily  declares  she  will 
tell  no  more  at  present,  and  Ana,  dumbfounded,  retires. 

Lope  now  appears,  and  on  his  addressing  Leonor  with  all 
his  former  ardor,  she  disdainfully  tells  him  what  she  has  heard, 
not  mentioning  his  supposed  inamorata  by  name,  however. 
At  great  length  she  reproves  him  for  his  unfaithfulness,  and 
declares  that  their  engagement  must  be  broken  publicly,  and 
the  reason  given,  if  she  would  save  her  honor.  Lope  endeavors 
to  pacify  his  infuriated  mistress,  and  declaring  that  he  loves 
her,  offers  the  same  excuse  for  his  actions  as  he  did  to  Pedro. 
All  in  vain,  however,  and  finally  losing  patience,  he  asserts 
that  the  guilt  is  on  her  side,  and  angrily  tells  her  that  he  will 
never  marry  her,  for  she  has  been  untrue  to  him,  and  this  is 
the  real  cause  of  his  neglect. 

Act  III. 
Juan,  unable  longer  to  force  himself  to  obey  Ana's  command 
that  he  should  not  see  her,  calls  upon  her,  greatly  to  her  sur- 
prise and  confusion.  He  reproaches  her  for  not  even  having 
sent  him  a  message  during  the  time  that  has  elapsed  since  his 
last  visit,  made  on  the  day  of  their  betrothal.  In  her  defense,  she 
tells  him  that  Leonor  has  positively  forbidden  her  to  see  him, 
and  then  relates  the  quarrel  that  took  place  between  them.  At 
this  juncture  Leonor  appears,  and  after  Juan  has  made  some 
excuse  for  being  discovered  in  his  mistress's  company,  she  bids 
Ana  withdraw,  saying  that  she  wishes  to  speak  privately  with 
Juan. 


(26) 

After  Ana  has  retired,  Leonor  communicates  to  Juan  that 
Lope  is  wronging  both  them  and  Ana  in  paying  his  addresses 
to  the  latter,  and  then  tells,  in  extenso,  of  Lope's  former  love 
for  her,  and  of  his  shameful  neglect  since  his  return  from  Flan- 
ders. Naturally,  Juan  is  not  a  little  surprised  and  angered  to 
find  that  the  lady  who  has  displaced  Lope's  affections  for 
Leonor,  as  he  himself  declared  to  him,  is  none  other  than 
his  fiancee.  Ana.  He  is  mad  with  jealousy,  and  when,  on 
taking  leave  of  Leonor,  he  sees  Lope,  he  eagerly  accepts  the 
challenge  to  a  duel  which  the  latter  offers,  and  appoints  the 
place  and  time.  Lope  is,  on  his  part,  equally  furious  on  dis- 
covering Juan  with  his  mistress,  and  thirsts  for  the  revenge 
which  he  soon  hopes  to  attain. 

Imagining  that  his  former  mistress,  Leonor,  is  to  become  the 
wife  of  Juan,  Lope  resolves  to  make  good  her  loss  with  Ana, 
whom  he  has  now  succeeded  in  persuading  himself  is  far  supe- 
rior to  Leonor.  Accordingly,  when  Pedro  joyfully  announces 
to  him  that  he.  Lope,  has  at  last  obtained  his  much-desired 
preferment  in  the  shape  of  a  Marquisate,  and  can  therefore 
marry  Leonor  at  once,  he  declares  that  Anaj  and  not  Leonor ^ 
will  be  his  wife.  Pedro  is,  of  course,  utterly  astounded,  but 
Lope  offers  no  further  explanation  than  by  asserting  that  Juan 
can  have  Leonor,  for  such  an  arrangement  will  suit  them  both 
very  well.  When  Pedro  communicates  this  information  to 
Leonor,  she  is  overcome  with  grief,  and  bursting  into  tears,  re- 
solves to  take  her  life  rather  than  see  her  beloved  one  become 
the  husband  of  another. 

Martin  —  Lope's  servant  —  who  chanced  to  overhear  his 
master's  challenge  to  Juan  for  a  duel,  now  appears  before 
Leonor  in  great  trepidation,  and  tells  her  what  is  about  to  take 
place.  She  decides  to  start  for  the  duelling-ground  at  once,  in 
company  with  Ana,  not  to  prevent  the  fight,  but  to  beseech 
Juan  to  take  swift  and  sure  vengeance  on  Lope  for  his  cruel 
treatment  of  her. 

Pedro  has  also  been  apprised  by  Martin  of  the  impending 
duel,  and  hurrying  to  the  spot,  arrives  just  in  time  to  fore- 


(27) 

stall  the  first  thrust  by  throwing  himself  between  the  com- 
batants. He  begs  Lope  not  to  run  such  a  great  risk  on  the  eve 
of  his  marriage,  for  his  prospective  bride,  Ana,  would  be  heart- 
broken were  he  to  lose  his  life.  When  Juan  hears  his  fiancee 
mentioned  as  Lope's  intended  wife,  he  is  amazed,  and  in  no 
mild  terms  asserts  his  right  and  intention  to  keep  possession  of 
her. 

Leonor  and  Ana  now  make  their  appearance,  and  the  former 
revealing  Lope's  assumed  infidelity  to  her,  asks  Juan  to  avenge 
her  injured  reputation  and  his.  She  then  places  herself  at  the 
side  of  her  loved  one,  and  declares  she  will  die  with  him.  Lope 
is  greatly  puzzled  by  Leonor's  statement,  and  asks  Juan  why 
he  should  have  occasion  to  avenge  Leonor  and  himself.  Juan 
replies  that  they  have  both  been  wronged  by  him  in  his  court- 
ing Ana,  when  already  betrothed  to  Leonor.  Lope  then  satis- 
factorily explains  matters  by  telling  of  his  mistake  in  suppos- 
ing that  it  was  Leonor  whom  Juan  had  intended  marrying, 
when  he  spoke  of  her  as  a  lady  just  out  of  a  convent ;  he  was 
quite  unaware  that  Ana  likewise  fulfilled  this  condition. 

In  accordance  with  the  original  arrangement.  Lope  now 
offers  his  hand  to  Leonor,  and  Juan,  at  Pedro's  bidding,  does 
the  same  to  Ana. 

IL 

De  un  Castigo  dos  Venganzas. 

(For  One  Punishment  a  Double  Vengeance.) 

Act  I. 
While  Lady  Leonor  Faria  was  one  night  awaiting  her  cousin 
and  lover,  Don  Lope  de  Almeida,  she  saw  a  man  at  the  street- 
door  below,  and  assuming  him  to  be  the  object  of  her  affections, 
she  hurried  down  to  the  grating  to  speak  with  him.  Hardly 
had  she  addressed  him,  when  her  brother  Pedro  appeared,  hav- 
ing returned  home  earlier  that  night  than  usual,  and  challeng- 
ing the  gallant,  drew  his  sword  and  attacked  him.  The 
stranger  was  more  than  a  match  for  his  adversary,  however. 


(28) 

and  running  him  through  the  body,  saw  him  fall  lifeless  upon 
the  ground.  He  was  about  to  make  good  his  escape,  when  a 
crowd  collected,  attracted  by  the  noise  of  the  encounter,  and  so 
completely  surrounded  him  that  to  flee  was  impossible.  The 
police  soon  arrived,  and  after  identifying  the  murderer  as  Don 
Juan  de  Silva,  hurried  him  off  to  prison. 

This  unfortunate  affair  is  much  to  be  deplored,  since,  be- 
sides exciting  the  anger  of  the  victim's  father,  it  has  done  great 
injury  to  the  reputation  of  Leonor.  With  a  view  to  repairing 
this  damage,  therefore,  the  relatives  of  Juan  have  stipulated 
that  he  should  become  the  husband  of  the  lady  who  has  so  suf- 
fered from  his  crime.  When  Leonor  learns  this,  she  is  filled 
with  consternation,  and,  in  her  despair,  resolves  to  ask  aid  of 
her  friend  and  next-door  neighbor.  Lady  Yiolante  de  Ataide. 

Quite  unaware  that  for  some  time  Juan  and  Violante  have 
loved  one  another,  and  that  through  a  letter  from  Juan  Vio- 
lante is  cognizant  of  all  that  occurred  on  that  fatal  night,  Leonor 
rehearses  to  her  the  whole  affair,  and  after  declaring  she  will 
never  marry  Juan,  begs  her  to  visit  him  in  his  prison  and  in- 
form him  that  she  —  Leonor  —  has  a  lover.  She  feels  confi- 
dent that  when  Juan  hears  this  he  will  flatly  refuse  to  become 
her  husband.  Violante,  who,  up  till  now,  has  heard  nothing 
of  the  proposed  arrangement  regarding  Juan  and  Leonor,  pales 
when  the  latter  unfolds  it,  and  Leonor  observes  her  distress  and 
remarks  upon  it.  She  excuses  her  confusion,  however,  on  the 
ground  of  sympathy,  and  declares  that  she  will  accede  to 
Leonor's  request. 

Going  to  the  prison,  Violante  is  admitted  by  the  Alcaide,  — 
a  former  servant  of  hers,  —  and  is  about  to  enter  Juan's  dun- 
geon, when  she  sees  the  Corregidor,  Garcia,  speaking  with  him. 
Garcia,  who  has  been  sent  by  Juan  to  intercede  for  him  with 
Don  Diego,  the  father  of  the  murdered  man  and  Viceroy  of 
Portugal,  tells  him  that  if  he  would  save  his  life  he  must 
marry  Leonor,  for  only  on  that  condition  will  Diego  annul  the 
sentence  of  death  which  he  has  passed  upon  him ;  he  has  two 
days  in  which  to  decide.     Hereupon  Garcia  leaves  him. 


(29) 

On  hearing  this,  Yiolante  is  terror-stricken,  and  realizing 
that  to  deliver  Leonoras  message  is  but  to  influence  Juan  to 
die,  she  resolves  to  withhold  it  and  exhort  him  to  accept  the 
condition  imposed.  She  well  knows  that  if  he  were  aware  of 
Leonor's  love  for  Lope,  he  would  die  rather  than  deprive  her 
of  him.  To  her  great  dismay,  Juan  at  first  absolutely  refuses 
to  comply  with  her  request,  and  only  after  the  greatest  urging 
and  the  declaration  that  if  he  does  not  she  will  take  her  own 
life,  does  he  yield. 

Act  11. 

Six  months  have  passed  since  Juan  became  the  husband  of 
Leonor,  and,  as  might  be  expected,  their  married  life  has  been 
very  unhappy.  He  has  learned  that  at  the  time  he  married 
Leonor,  she  had  a  lover  in  Lope,  and  consequently  suspects 
that  she  may  now  be  unfaithful  toward  him.  As  he  still  loves 
Yiolante,  he  decides  to  communicate  his  fears  to  her,  in  the 
hope  that  she  may  be  able  to  advise  him,  and  arriving  at  her 
house  unexpectedly,  she  is  overwhelmed  with  embarrassment 
and  confusion. 

After  he  has  declared  that  he  can  never  love  Leonor  and  for- 
get Yiolante,  he  tells  the  latter  of  his  jealousy  toward  Lope, 
whereupon  she  answers  him  that  it  is  groundless,  for  Lope  is 
now  her  lover.  When  the  latter  lost  his  adored  Leonor, 
through  her  becoming  the  wife  of  Juan,  he  endeavored  to  bury 
his  grief  by  paying  court  to  Yiolante,  and  she  encouraged 
him.  Her  object  in  so  doing  was  to  induce  him  to  discon- 
tinue his  relations  with  Leonor,  by  which  he  excited  Juan^s 
jealousy.  As  time  passed  Lope  became  more  and  more  inti- 
mate with  her,  and,  at  last,  enjoyed  her  one  night  under 
promise  of  marriage ;  he  will  soon  become  her  husband.  She 
has  very  naturally  refrained  from  disclosing  this  to  anyone,  and 
reveals  it  to  Juan  only  that  in  the  future  he  may  have  no  oc- 
casion to  foster  any  feelings  of  jealousy  toward  Lope.  Since, 
however,  Juan's  future  security  depends,  in  his  eyes,  so  largely 
upon  Leonor  knowing  her  —  Yiolante's  —  relations  with  Lope, 
she  will  also  make  her  a  party  to  the  secret,  at  the  *first  oppor- 


(30) 

tunity.     In  payment  for  this  favor,  she  requests  Juan  never 
again  to  visit  her,  and  greatly  saddened  he  takes  his  leave. 

Not  long  after  this,  Leonor  calls  upon  Yiolante,  and  upon 
alluding  to  her  husband's  jealousy  of  Lope,  is  told  that  he  has  been 
disabused  upon' that  subject.  Leonor,  of  course  quite  unaware 
that  Yiolante  never  delivered  to  Juan,  in  his  prison,  the  message 
she  had  sent  to  him,  now  declares  that  it  was  an  outrage  for  him 
to  marry  her,  when  he  knew  she  already  had  a  lover.  Wholly 
ignorant  of  Lope's  relations  to  Yiolante,  she  concludes  by  de- 
claring that  she  still  loves  him,  and  has  yielded  up  to  him  her 
honor,  and  then  asks  Yiolante  that  she  allow  them  to  meet  in 
her  own  house,  where  they  will  be  less  likely  to  be  discovered 
by  Juan  than  in  her  own.  At  this  moment  Juan  is  heard 
without,  and  Leonor  hurriedly  departs,  promising  to  confer 
again,  at  length,  with  Yiolante  upon  the  matter. 

Yiolante  is  furious  with  anger  and  jealousy,  for  she  really 
loves  Lope  and  had  not  suspected  that  he  was  trifling  with 
her,  and  bursts  out  into  a  long  and  impassioned  speech,  with 
which  the  act  closes. 

Act  III. 

Lope  calls  upon  Yiolante,  his  promised  wife,  who  decides  to 
send  at  once  for  Leonor,  to  acquaint  her,  in  his  presence,  of 
their  true  relationship.  While  the  servant  —  quite  unknown 
to  Lope  —  is  seeking  Leonor,  Yiolante  takes  occasion  to  ask 
him  to  marry  her,  but  he  replies  that  it  is  impossible,  as  he 
must  leave  the  country  immediately. 

Leonor  now  appears,  and  Lope,  in  great  dismay,  for  ot 
course  he  does  not  wish  to  be  seen  by  her,  secretes  himself, 
under  the  pretense  that  if  he  be  found  with  Yiolante  her  repu- 
tation will  suffer.  But  Leonor  has  already  been  informed  by 
the  servant  sent  by  Yiolante  that  Lope  is  in  the  house,  and  she 
accordingly  asks  at  once  where  he  is.  On  this,  Yiolante  bids 
him  come  forth  from  his  hiding  place,  and  he  acquiesces,  over- 
whelmed with  embarrassment.  After  Leonor  has  greeted  him 
affectionately  and  assured  him  that  he  has  nothing  to  fear  from 
her  friend,  Yiolante,  the  latter,  to  his  utter  disconcertion,  re- 


(  31  ) 

veals  his  past  relations  with  her,  and  adds  that  as  he  is  to  be 
her  husband,  Leonor  and  he  must  cease  their  amour. 

In  a  long  speech,  Leonor  now  asserts  her  undying  love  for 
Lope  and  her  jealousy  of  Violante  ;  out  of  regard  for  her,  how- 
ever, she  will  ask  him  to  declare  in  their  presence  that  he  will 
become  her  —  Violante's  —  husband,  and  if  he  does  so,  she  will 
promise  never  to  see  him  again.  Lope,  however,  refuses  flatly 
to  accede  to  her  request,  explaining  that  even  if  he  should  marry 
Violante  he  could  not  cease  his  relations  with  her,  and  would 
therefore  be  untrue  to  his  wife. 

Violante  learns  through  her  servant,  Luisa,  that  Juan  is  to 
leave  the  country  that  night  for  Brazil  to  take  part,  as  Captain, 
in  the  war  against  Holland,  and  that  Lope,  who  had  also 
enlisted,  has  planned  to  desert,  return,  and  keep  an  assigna- 
tion that  night  with  Leonor  in  her  own  house.  Ablaze  with 
jealousy  on  hearing  this,  Violante  resolves  to  put  the  adulterers 
to  death.  Accordingly,  she  sends  word  to  Juan  to  come  at 
once  to  her  if  he  should  miss  Lope  in  the  ranks,  since  it  will 
be  very  important  for  him  to  do  so.  Soon  after  dispatching  the 
letter,  Violante  is  informed  by  a  servant  that  Lope,  in  dis- 
guise, has  been  seen  to  enter  Leonoras  house.  She  sends  word 
to  the  Corregidor  to  come  at  once,  and  seizing  a  dagger,  enters 
the  house  of  Juan  through  a  door  in  the  party-wall.  Passing 
to  Leonoras  chamber,  she  comes  upon  the  wretched  pair  in 
flagrante  delicto,  and  kills  them  both.  Juan,  who  has  arrived 
at  Violante^s  meantime,  and  has  heard  the  screams  uttered  by 
Leonor,  is  about  to  rush  to  her  aid  through  the  door  left  open 
by  Violante,  when  he  is  met  by  the  murderess,  dagger  in  hand. 
At  great  length,  she  relates  what  she  has  done,  and  the  causes 
which  led  up  to  it,  and  adds  that  she  has  sent  for  the  Cor- 
regidor.  When  she  has  concluded,  Juan  offers  his  hand  to  her, 
as  the  avenger  of  his  injured  honor. 

Garcia,  the  Corregidor,  now  arrives  in  response  to  Violante's 
letter,  which  was  to  the  effect  that  Juan  should  be  taken  into 
custody,  to  forestall  a  crime  which  he  intended  to  commit. 
Showing  Garcia  the  bloody  dagger,  which  he  had  previously 


(32) 

taken  from  Violante,  Juan,  imputing  no  blame  to  her,  de- 
clares that  he  is  a  murderer,  and  then  leads  him  to  view  the 
two  corpses.  Relating  briefly  to  the  official  why  he  put  the 
two  to  death,  the  Corregidor  declares  that  under  the  circum- 
stances he  will  not  cast  him  into  prison,  but  detain  him  at  his 
—  Garcia's  —  house  till  the  Viceroy  shall  grant  him  the  par- 
don which  he  is  sure  to  receive. 


(c)  Cojmedia  de  Santos. 

Santo  Domingo  en  Soriano, 

(St.  Dominic  in  Soriano.) 

Ad  I. 

The  Baron  of  Lisola,  with  drawn  sword,  attacks  Don  Domingo . 
Duzi  by  night,  in  front  of  the  monastery  of  Santo  Domingo  in 
the  town  of  Soriano.  Domingo,  however,  bravely  defends  him- 
self, and  by  a  well-directed  thrust  puts  an  end  to  the  life  of  his 
antagonist.  As  the  Baron  falls  to  the  ground,  Domingo,  fear- 
ing detection,  seeks  refuge  in  the  monastery,  intending  to  re- 
main there  till  all  danger  of  possible  arrest  is  past.  On  inform- 
ing the  Father  Sacristan,  Fray  Vicente,  of  the  crime  he  has 
just  committed,  the  former  offers  Domingo  the  hospitality  of 
the  monastery  so  long  as  he  may  desire. 

Domingo,  however,  has  made  an  appointment  to  meet  his 
mistress,  Porcia,  that  night  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  soon  becomes 
very  uneasy.  Love  overcoming  the  fear  of  .arrest,  he  tells 
Vicente  of  his  assignation  with  Porcia,  and  adds  that  if  sus- 
picion should  point  to  him  as  the  murderer  of  the  Baron,  his 
very  retirement  to  the  monastery  would  serve  only  to  increase 
it.  Thanking  Vicente  for  his  welcome,  and  thinking  it  best 
for  him  to  remain  no  longer,  he  is  about  to  take  his  leave  when 
the  voice  of  the  Baron  is  heard,  accompanied  by  knocks  at  the 
door.  Domingo  is  startled,  and  while  hesitating  what  to  do, 
the  door  opens  and  the  spirit  of  the  murdered  man  appears. 
Torch  in  hand,  the  spectre  warns  him  not  to  keep  his  appoint- 


(33) 

ment  with  Porcia,  for  in  so  doing  he  will  run  a  great  danger. 
Domingo  replies  that  he  is  not  afraid,  whereupon  the  ghost  de- 
clares that  if  he  is  not  to  be  dissuaded  from  his  intention,  he 
must,  in  the  name  of  Santo  Domingo,  first  follow  him  before 
going  to  Porcia.  Not  without  misgivings,  Domingo  consents, 
and  is  led  by  the  spectre  to  a  lonely  spot  outside  the  town. 
There  he  is  ordered  to  lay  aside  his  clothes,  and  put  on  those 
of  his  guide  ;  he  does  so,  and  the  spectre  donning  his,  disappears. 
Some  time  before  paying  his  addresses  to  Porcia,  Domingo 
had  shown  great  favor  to  her  cousin,  Gerarda,  but  Porcia,  full  of 
jealousy,  had  at  last  succeeded  in  winning  him  over  to  herself. 
This  so  angered  Gerarda  that  she  communicated  to  Porcia's 
father,  Aurelio,  his  daughter's  passion  for  Domingo,  knowing 
that  Aurelio  was  opposed  to  Domingo  and  wished  Porcia  to 
marry  the  Baron  of  Lisola.  So  enraged  did  Aurelio  become 
on  Gerarda's  disclosure,  that  he  declared  he  would  kill  Domingo 
on  his  next  visit  to  Porcia.  Learning  from  a  letter  Porcia  has 
just  received  from  her  lover  that  he  will  visit  her  this  night, 
Aurelio  orders  her  to  her  room,  and  arming  himself,  is  even 
now  awaiting  the  arrival  of  Domingo.  Accordingly,  it  is  to 
save  his  life  that  God  has  sent  the  spirit  of  the  murdered  Baron 
to  warn  him  of  his  impending  danger,  and  to  protect  him  from 
it.  When  Domingo  reaches  the  house  of  Porcia,  he  again  be- 
holds the  spectre,  and  Aurelio,  on  appearing,  of  course  mis- 
takes the  latter  for  Domingo.  Furious  with  rage,  he  runs  him 
through  with  his  sword  and  causes  him  to  be  hurriedly  interred, 
while  Domingo  himself,  amazed  at  what  he  has  seen,  makes 
good  his  escape. 

Act  11. 

Domingo  again  takes  refuge  with  Fray  Vicente  and  his 
Brethren,  where  he  remains  till  he  hears  that  a  proclamation 
has  been  made  pardoning  all  those  guilty  of  crime,  on  condi- 
tion that  they  capture,  dead  or  alive,  the  captain  of  a  certain 
band  of  outlaws.  Taking  advantage  of  this  proclamation, 
Domingo  resolves,  after  first  visiting  Porcia,  to  proceed  to  the 
mountain  stronghold  of  the  free-booters. 


(34) 

As  Aurelio  has  never  discovered  the  mistake  he  had  made  in 
stabbing  the  spectre  of  the  Baron  in  place  of  Domingo,  all, 
of  course,  suppose  that  Domingo  is  no  more.  Porcia  is  over- 
come with  grief,  while  Gerarda,  having  very  rightly  regarded 
herself  as  the  real  cause  of  his  death,  has  lost  her  reason. 
Under  these  circumstances,  therefore,  when  Domingo  appears 
before  Porcia  and  her  servant,  Dorotea,  they  are  terrified,  and 
believe  him  to  be  a  ghost.  When  Porcia  discovers  that  the 
visitor  is  actually  her  lover,  her  joy  knows  no  bounds,  and 
she  asks  him  how  he  escaped  the  fury  of  Aurelio.  After  tell- 
ing her  how  the  Baron,  out  of  jealousy  for  her,  had  attacked 
him,  and  relating  all  that  had  subsequently  taken  place,  he 
informs  her  of  his  intention  to  go  against  the  outlaws,  and  as- 
sures her  he  will  soon  return. 

When  Domingo  has  departed,  Porcia  causes  the  unfortunate 
Gerarda  to  be  taken  to  Santo  Domingo,  where  by  Vicente  she 
is  exorcised,  and  restored  to  her  senses. 

On  reaching  the  mountains,  Domingo  finds  Eicardo,  the 
captain  of  the  robbers,  and  three  of  his  companions  in  a  cave. 
He  sees  with  them  a  woman  whom  they  are  forcibly  detain- 
ing, and  who  is  bemoaning  her  sad  fate.  The  unfortunate 
prisoner  is  none  other  than  Gerarda,  who,  after  having  been 
once  exorcised  by  Vicente,  has  again  become  possessed  of  the 
devil,  and  fled  to  the  mountains.  Domingo  kills  Ricardo,  re- 
leases Gerarda,  and  leaping  upon  a  horse,  dashes  away,  closely 
pursued  by  the  robbers.  They  are  about  to  overtake  him, 
when,  in  his  despair,  he  calls  on  Santo  Domingo  for  aid,  and  the 
latter  appeares,  riding  upon  a  dog,  and  carrying  in  his  mouth 
a  torch,  and  in  his  right  hand  a  bunch  of  white  lilies.  The  Saint 
declares  that  Domingo  has  nothing  to  fear  under  his  protection, 
and  bears  him  away  to  Soriano. 

Act  III. 
After  his  return  to  Soriano,  Domingo  goes  to  the  monas- 
tery, and  thanking  Vicente  for  his  prayers  to  Santo  Domingo, 
which  alone  made  his  victory  possible,  asks  permission  to  re- 


(35) 

main  there  till  the  Consistory  of  Soriano  shall  grant  his 
pardon.  Vicente  again  offers  him  the  hospitality  of  the  sac- 
red house,  and  Domingo  then  tells  him  of  Gerarda's  second 
attack  of  insanity  and  adventure  with  the  robbers.  When 
Domingo  has  concluded  his  narrative,  Gerarda  appears,  held  by 
three  men,  and  Vicente  again  casting  out  the  devil,  she  returns 
to  her  senses,  and  declares  that  henceforth  she  will  be  a  child 
of  God. 

Shortly  after  this,  the  Governor  calls  upon  Vicente,  and  at 
his  request  the  Friar  narrates,  at  considerable  length,  the  story 
of  the  founding  of  the  monastery  and  what  occasioned  it.  He 
then  requests  the  Governor  to  pardon  Domingo  for  the  crime 
he  has  committed  in  murdering  the  Baron,  adding  that  as  he  has 
killed  Ricardo  he  has  fulfilled  the  condition  required  for  ob- 
taining such  a  pardon.  The  Governor  gladly  grants  his  re- 
quest, and  Vicente  sending  for  Domingo,  informs  him  that  he 
need  no  longer  have  any  fear  of  justice. 

Aurelio  and  Porcia  now  appear,  and  the  Governor  tells  Do- 
mingo that  he  knows  all  about  his  love  for  Porcia,  and  will 
arrange  with  Aurelio  that  he  may  have  her  for  a  wife.  At 
this,  Aurelio  steps  forward  and  declares  that  no  such  interfer- 
ence from  the  Governor  is  necessary,  for,  through  the  influence 
of  Santo  Domingo,  all  his  former  hatred  for  Domingo  has 
turned  to  love.  Greatly  to  the  joy  of  the  two  young  people, 
he  then  bids  Porcia  offer  her  hand  to  Domingo,  which  he,  de- 
lighted, accepts,  declaring  that  all  his  misfortunes  are  now  at 
an  end. 

Some  time  previous  to  this,  Vicente  had  caused  a  portrait  of 
the  Saint  to  be  removed  from  one  altar  in  the  chapel  to  another, 
for  the  reason  that  water,  working  its  way  through  the  wall 
from  a  spring  in  a  rock  outside,  was  constantly  passing  over  it. 
The  Father  feared  that  the  portrait  would  be  destroyed  by  the 
action  of  the  water,  and  hence  had  its  position  changed.  Word 
is  now  brought  to  him  by  one  of  the  Brothers  that  the  portrait 
has  been  restored  to  its  original  altar  by  the  Virgin,  for  the 
miracle  was  performed  in  his  own  presence.      All  repairing 


(36) 

thither,  they  find  the  altar  surrounded  by  the  Virgin,  the  Mag- 
dalen and  St.  Catalina.  The  Virgin  declares  that  the  portrait 
is  in  no  danger,  for  Heaven  will  protect  it,  and,  to  the  sound 
of  music,  the  altar  and  the  holy  ladies  disappear  from  view. 

.     (d)      COMEDIA    DEVOTA. 

£!scanderbech, 
(Scanderbeg.) 

The  heathen  Escanderbech,  about  to  lead  an  attack  on  a 
city,  is  met  at  the  ramparts  by  a  woman,  whose  features  are 
concealed  by  a  veil.  In  a  long  speech,  he  boasts  to  her  of  his 
many  victories,  but,  before  he  has  concluded,  he  confesses  that 
he  is  enamored  of  her  graceful  figure,  and  bids  her  remove  her 
veil  and  give  her  name.  She  complies,  and  informs  him  that 
she  is  Christerna  Maria,  a  Christian,  and  a  member  of  the  Cas- 
triota  family.  As  soon  as  she  beholds  Escanderbech,  she  is  in- 
fatuated with  his  great  beauty,  and  declares  that  such  aiBfection 
does  he  inspire  in  her  that  she  will  gladly  make  peace  with  him. 
If,  however,  he  desires  w^ar,  she  will  fight  him  to  the  death. 
Escanderbech  tells  her  that  he  will  leave  her  in  peace,  where- 
upon she  states  that  if  he  will  desert  Amurates,  his  lord,  she 
will  aid  him  in  all  his  exploits  and  become  his  wife.  This  he 
refuses  to  do,  and  casting  longing  glances  at  one  another,  they 
separate — she  to  reenter  the  city,  and  he  to  return  with  his 
army  to  Constantinople. 

For  some  time  the  Sultan,  Amurates,  has  been  suspicious 
concerning  the  loyalty  of  Escanderbech,  and  when  now  he 
does  not  return  from  his  expedition  at  the  appointed  time,  he  is 
greatly  worried.  He  communicates  his  fears  to  his  wife,  Rosa, 
who,  to  divert  him,  offers  to  sing  for  him.  Amurates  gladly 
assents,  and  requesting  her  to  make  Escanderbech  the  sub- 
ject of  her  strain,  she  sings  of  his  adoption  by  her  husband, 
his  victories,  the  great  honors  bestowed  upon  him,  and  the 
possibility  that  some  day,  when  he  learns  of  his  noble  blood, 
he  may  turn  a  traitor.     Before  she  has  finished,  Escanderbech, 


(37) 

who  has  just  returned,  is  about  to  come  before  the  Sultan,  but, 
being  unobserved,  decides  to  await  the  conclusion  of  her  song. 
As  Rosa  lays  down  the  instrument  on  which  she  has  been 
playing,  he  enters,  announced  by  a  roll  of  the  drum.  After 
greeting  her  and  Am  urates,  he  tells  of  the  victories  won  on  his 
late  campaign,  and  concludes  by  stating  that  while  returning 
to  Constantinople  he  was  vanquished  by  a  most  beautiful 
woman,  Christerna  Maria.  The  Sultan,  knowing  her  to  be  a 
Christian,  flies  into  a  fury,  calls  Escanderbech  a  traitor,  and 
declares  that,  as  a  punishment,  he  —  accompanied  by  him  — 
must  return  to  Albania,  and  take  Maria  a  prisoner. 

This  treatment  thoroughly  arouses  Escanderbech,  and  after 
Amurates  has  withdrawn,  he  calls  upon  Christerna  to  aid  him. 
Imagine  his  great  surprise,  when  she  instantly  responds  to  his 
call,  having,  without  his  being  aware  of  it,  followed  him  on 
his  return.  After  speaking  of  his  abuse  by  the  Sultan,  he 
relates  to  her  that  on  his  way  home  he  saw  a  young  man  nailed 
on  a  cross  and  surrounded  by  a  dazzling  light ;  on  touch- 
ing him,  his  bleeding  body  turned  to  the  whitest  bread 
Christerna  explains  that  this  was  Christ,  and  then,  at  great 
length,  unfolds  to  him  the  nature  of  God.  She  exhorts  him 
to  be  a  slave  of  Amurates  no  longer,  but  to  turn  Christian,  and, 
after  killing  the  infidel,  release  all  his  captives.  By  winning 
over  to  his  side  the  janizaries  of  the  Sultan,  the  victory  will  be 
an  easy  one,  and  then  he  will  be  able  to  regain  his  own  king- 
dom, of  which  he  has  been  so  basely  deprived. 

Escanderbech  follows  the  advice  of  Christerna,  and  attacking 
Amurates,  routs  his  troops,  sets  fire  to  his  pavilion,  and  burns 
both  him  and  his  wife,  Rosa,  to  death.  A  volley  of  squibs 
exploded  on  the  stage  marks  the  extinction  of  the  tent,  and 
Alberto,  one  of  Escanderbech^s  followers,  appears  on  horseback 
with  a  seven-headed,  fire-exhaling  dragon  at  his  feet.  Amidst 
the  sound  of  music  and  cries  of  "Long  live  Christerna,"  the  play 
comes  to  an  end. 


(  38  ) 
ly.   Criticism  . 

(a)     COMEDIAS    HEROTCAS. 
I. 

'     El  Reynar  para  Morir. 

A  very  poor  piece,  whose  strongest  claim  to  notice  rests  in 
its  extreme  rarity.^  It  lacks  action,  and  is  so  filled  with 
moralization  that  it  is  more  than  tiresome.  The  first  act  con- 
tains all  the  real  development  of  the  subject,  only  excepting 
the  murder  of  Lisandro  and  reinstatement  of  Aristomenes. 
This  being  the  case,  the  remaining  two  acts  are  very  weak. 
Obscure  passages  and  inconsistencies  abound;  only  one -example 
of  the  latter  need  be  given  :  If  Lisandro  was  heir  to  the  Greek 
throne,  why  was  some  Greek  expected  to  ask  for  it  on  the  death 
of  Ariolante?  In  all  respects  it  is  the  most  careless  of  the 
plays  that  I  have  examined,  and  has  no  point  of  merit  to 
recommend  it. 

The  scene  in  Act  II.,  where  Aristomenes  receives  the  peti- 
tioners, much  resembles  a  scene  in  Act  II.  of  "  Como  Padre  y 
como  Rey,^^  where  Carlos  is  represented  as  doing  likewise. 
The  object  of  both  these  passages  is  to  show  the  justice  of  the 
two  rulers. 

Scene :  Athens. 

II. 

El  Segundo  Seneca  de  Espana. 

Luis  Cabrera  de  Cordoba's  "  Felipe  Segundoj  Rey  de 
Espanay^  published  in  1619,  has  probably  furnished  to  Mon- 

1  There  is  no  copy  of  this  play  in  the  Ticknor  collection  of  the  Boston  Pub- 
lic Library,  nor  in  the  British  Museum,  nor  in  the  Royal  Library  at  Madrid. 
There  are  two  copies  in  the  National  Library,  Madrid,  both  formerly  owned 
by  Gayangos.  I  learn  from  Sr.  Menendez  Pidal,  through  Dr.  Rennert,  that 
Gallardo  —  vol.  III.,  col.  1,213,  fin. — is  evidently  in  error  in  stating  that 
there  is  in  the  Royal  Library  a  volume  entitled  :  **  Comedias  de  Moreto,*' 
which  contains,  among  other  plays,  six  comedias  mdtas  of  Montalvan.  No  such 
book  now  exists  there,  and  if  Gallardo  actually  saw  the  volume,  it  must  have 
since  mysteriously  disappeared. 


(  39  ) 

talvan  the  material  for  this  play/  which  depicts  events  in  the 
life  of  King  Philip  the  Second,  from  the  uprising  of  the 
Moors  in  Granada  to  his  marriage  with  Anne  of  Austria. 
The  piece  is'  more  interesting  from  its  delineation  of  character 
than  as  a  dramatic  production,  for  our  author  treats  his  subject 
more  like  a  chronicler  than  a  dramatist.  Historical  fact  is 
adhered  to  with  tolerable  strictness,  and  there  are  but  a  few 
anachronisms.  The  two  most  glaring  are  these  :  Montalvan 
represents  the  Prince,  Don  Carlos,  as  still  alive  at  the  opening 
of  the  play  in  1570  —  the  year  in  which  Don  Juan  of  Austria 
was  sent  against  the  Moors  in  Granada  —  while,  in  actuality, 
he  died  in  1568.  It  was  in  1567  that  he  attacked  the  Duke 
of  Alva  with  a  dagger.  Again  :  the  appointment  of  Don  Juan 
as  general  of  the  League  is  given  as  almost  simultaneous  with 
Philip's  marriage  with  Anne  of  Austria,  while,  historically, 
Philip  was  married  in  1570,  and  Juan  not  appointed  till  the 
following  year.  The  death  of  Philip's  third  wife,  Isabella  of 
France,  is  correctly  given  as  occurring  in  1568.^ 

The  delineation  of  character  throughout  is  admirable,  and,  I 
think,  not  surpassed  in  any  play  of  our  author.  Philip  we 
have  as  history  paints  him,  cold,  haughty,  austere,  shrewd,  a 
fanatic  adorer  of  his  Church,  indeed  one  of  the  greatest  bigots 
of  that  or  any  age,  disliking  personal  conflict,  and  transacting 
all  business  with  his  council  in  writing  only.  The  Prince, 
Carlos,  is  correctly  represented  as  possessed  of  an  ungovernable 
temper,  stubborn,  conceited,  intensely  ambitious,  and,  withal,  of 
a  sickly  constitution.  The  other  principal  characters  are  just 
as  faithfully  represented. 

iTicknor,  vol.  11. ,  p.  319,  note  36.  Schaeffer,  vol.  I.,  p.  442,  states  that 
Montalvan  has  availed  himself  of  Enciso's  play :  ^^El  Principe  Don  Carlos,^' 
some  of  the  most  effective  scenes  of  which  he  has  reproduced,  and  some  of 
whose  characters  have  served  as  a  model  for  his.  The  figure  of  Don  Juan  of 
Austria  in  Montalvan' s  piece  is,  however,  a  valuable  addition  of  his  own. 

2  This  date  can  be  deduced  from  a  line  in  the  speech  of  the  Cardinal,  f.  18 : 
'*Dos  alios  ha  que  la  Reyna 

passo  desta  a  mejor  vida." 
The  year  in  which  he  is  speaking  is  1570. 


(40) 

The  long  scene  in  Act  I.,  wherein  Philip  passes  upon  a  num- 
ber of  petitions,  is  inserted  with  the  evident  intent  of  exhibit- 
ing his  character,  and  may  be  compared  with  similar  passages 
in  "  El  Reynar  para  Morir ''  and  "  Como  Padre  y  como 
Bey." 

Philip's  definition  of  perfect  nobility,  as  given  in  one  of  his 
speeches  in  this  last  mentioned  scene,^  reminds  one  of  what 
Juvenal  has  to  say  on  the  same  subject  in  his  eighth  Satire. 
He  there  demonstrates  that  distinction  is  merely  personal,  and, 
even  though  we  may  derive  rank  and  titles  from  our  ancestors, 
we  cannot  be  considered  truly  noble  if  we  degenerate  from  the 
virtues  by  which  they  obtained  them. 

The  incident  of  the  King  granting  a  pardon  to  the  son  of 
Pompeyo,  the  sculptor  in  Act  III.,  recalls  the  story  told  by 
Fitzmaurice-Kelly  ^  of  Philip  the  Fourth  and  the  painter 
Herrera,  for  both  the  Philips  would  stay  the  course  of  justice 
to  protect  an  artist.^ 

The  present  piece  forms  part  of  the  "  Para  Todos/^  folios 
6-21,  edition  of  1645,  and  was  also  printed  in  part  twenty- 
five  of  "  Comedian  recopiladas  de  diferentes  Autores  t  iUustres 
Poetas  de  Espafia/^  Zaragoza,  1632.*     It  was  there  attributed 

1  The  lines  referred  to  run  as  follows  : 

Y  la  perfeta  nobleza 
es  aquella,  que  sirviendo 
merece  un  hombre  de  bien, 
por  8U  virtud,  y  su  esfuerzo. 
Que  ser  noble  por  herencia, 
es  suerte,  no  entendimiento, 
pues  antes  de  aver  nacido 
ninguno  merece  serlo, 
que  no  ay  merito  sin  alma. 
«P.  375. 

^The  most  striking  contrast  to  the  clemency  of  these  rulers,  as  herein 
exhibited,  is  found  in  the  Koman  Emperor  Tiberius.  When,  on  one 
occasion,  a  poor  workman  presented  to  him  some  samples  of  malleable  glass 
of  his  own  invention,  he,  in  place  of  rewarding  him  for  his  discovery, 
caused  him  to  be  executed,  lest,  if  his  invention  should  become  known,  the 
value  of  gold  might  be  depreciated.  Vid.  Petronius,  Satires,  cap.  51 ; 
Dion  Cassius,  LVII.,  21,  and  Pliny,  Natural  History,  XXXVI.,  66. 
*  Barrera,  p.  684. 


(41) 

to  Gaspar  de  Avila.     Quevedo  in  his  "  Perinola ''  visits  upon 
this  play  the  harshest  censure. 
Scene  :  Madrid  and  Segovia. 

(b)    COMEDIAS  DE  CaPA  Y  EsPADA. 

I. 

Conio  Amante  y  como  Honrada. 

This  exceedingly  clever  play  is  one  of  the  very  best  of  Mon- 
talvan's  efforts  in  this  class,  and  forms  such  a  close  second  to 
"ia  Doncella  de  Labor  ^^  that  the  difference  between  their 
merits  is  scarcely  perceptible.  The  enredo  is  here  more  com- 
plicated than  in  the  other  piece,  but  is  worked  out  so  skilfully 
that  nothing  could  be  more  clear  and  easy  to  follow.  The 
point  upon  which  the  action  really  rests  —  the  concealment  of 
Ana's  engagement  to  Juan  till  after  Leonoras  marriage  to  Lope 
—  is  an  odd  one,  and,  no  doubt,  more  justified  by  dramatic 
necessities  than  ethics  ;  it  is  not  made  clear  why  Leonoras  mar- 
riage would  become  ^^  sospechoso  ^^  if  the  engagement  of  her 
sister  were  made  public  before  the  ceremony  took  place. 

In  Moreto's  ^' La  Gala  del  Nadar'^  we  have  a  striking 
parallelism  to  the  idea  of  Lope's  avenging  himself  upon  Leonor, 
for  her  supposed  infidelity,  by  courting  Ana. 

Scene :  Madrid. 

11. 

De  un  Castigo  dos   Venganzas. 

Montalvan,  himself,  tells  us  that  this  tragic  play  is  based  on  a 

series  of  events  which  happened  [in  Lisbon,  Portugal]  less  than 

a  year  before  he  wrote  it.^     From  this  assertion  we  can  deduce 

very  closely  the  date  of  composition  of  the  piece,  for  the  expe- 

1  This  statement  is  made  at  the  close  of  the  piece,  where  Violante  says  : 
' '  Y  aqui  esta  Comedia  acaba, 
historia  tan  verdadera, 
que  no  ha  cinquenta  semanas 
que  sucedio.    .    .    ." 


(42) 

dition  of  the  Portuguese  to  Brazil  mentioned  in  Act  III.  took 
place  about  the  year  1624.^  Accordingly,  1625  or  1626  can  be 
given  as  the  date  of  the  dramatic  adaptation. 

The  story  is  truly  a  chapter  of  the  most  repulsive  horrors, 
and  is  a  shock  to  our  sense  of  morality,  however  great  are  the 
dramatic  possibilities  which  it  offers.  One  cannot  enjoy  the 
recital  of  such  events,  and  only  the  admirable  way  in  which 
they  are  here  dramatized  at  all  redeems  them  from  what  would 
otherwise  be  a  well-merited  oblivion.  The  pure,  energetic  lan- 
guage and  well  developed  plot  do  our  author  great  credit,  and 
we  are  gratified  at  the  almost  total  absence  of  culteranismo  and 
the  usually  obtrusive  gradoso.  The  blind  and  fatal  devotion 
of  Leonor  and  Lope  is  skilfully  drawn,  and  the  awful  closing 
scene  forms  a  fitting  and  effective  climax  to  the  prophetic  gloom 
which  lies  over  the  entire  piece.  It  is  one  of  our  author's  best 
productions. 

Quevedo,  in  his  "  Perinola"  strongly  censures  its  immoral 
tone.^ 

A  play  of  Calderon  bears  a  title  very  much  like  ours,  — 
"  Un  Castigo  en  tres  Venganzas/^  —  but  in  content  has  nothing 
in  common.^ 

The  present  piece  was  printed  in  part  twenty-five  of  "  Come- 
dias  recopiladas  de  diferentes  Autores  ^  illustres  Poetas  de  Es- 
paMiy^  Zaragoza,  1632,  and  also  in  part  forty-four  of  the  same 
series,  Zaragoza,  1652.*  It  forms  a  portion  of  the  third  day's 
entertainment  in  the  "  Para  Todos/'  folios  85-100,  edition  of 
1645. 

^  The  object  of  this  great  Spanish -Portuguese  expedition  was  to  recapture 
Bahia,  then  the  capital  of  Brazil,  from  the  Hollanders,  who  had  taken  it  in 
war  with  Spain. 

2 .  .  .  bien  se  sabe  que  no  fu6  suya  [sc.  comedia]  otra  cosa  sino  aquella 
disoluta  y  desvergonzada  accion  de  aquella  mujer  infernal. 

"Schmidt,  p.  174. 

*Barrera,  pp.  684,  687. 


(43) 
Scene :  Portugal. 

(c)      COMEDIA    DE    SaNTOS. 

Santo  Domingo  en  Soriano. 

The  title-hero,  Santo  Domingo,  was  born  in  1170,  at  Cara- 
loga  in  Old  Castile,  of  parents  noble  in  name  —  that  of  Guz- 
man —  if  not  in  race.  At  Segovia  he  founded  a  monastery,  and 
at  Madrid  a  convent  for  women.  Later,  he  established,  the 
Third  Order  of  the  Dominicans.  This  Order  spread  rapidly 
from  its  place  of  origin,  which  is  not  known.  He  died  on  the 
sixth  of  August,  1221,  at  Bologna,  and  was  buried  there  in  the 
Church  of  his  Order.  He  was  canonized  by  Gregory  IX.,  in 
1233. 

The  Dominicans  were  styled  by  a  pun  "  Domi^i-canes,"  — 
the  Lord^s  dogs,  —  and  when  the  Inquisitorial  power  was 
lodged  in  their  hands,  the  torch,  which  kindled  so  many  fires, 
became  an  intelligible  adjunct  to  their  symbolical  animal. 
Hence  the  appearance  in  this  piece  of  Domingo  riding  upon  a 
dog,  and  carrying  a  torch. ^ 

It  is  surprising  that  this  play  should  have  passed  the  censor- 
ship of  the  Inquisition  and  have  been  permitted  to  be  per- 
formed, in  the  face  of  the  many  seemingly  sacriligious  expres- 
sions which  it  contains.  The  rdles  of  the  graciosos.  Chocolate 
and  Pierres,  are  certainly  very  incongruous  with  the  sober, 
religious  conception  which  Montalvan  would  have  us  believe 
permeates  the  piece.  Not  only  does  their  foolery  form  a 
strange  and  singularly  inharmonious  mixture  with  the  would- 
be  sanctity,  but  from  a  dramatic  standpoint  it  occupies  too 
much  space,  and  would  seem  inserted,  as  so  often  happens, 
merely  to  fill  out  the  acts  to  their  requisite  length  of  ten  pages 
each. 

1 1  have  been  able  to  indicate  here  but  a  few  facts  concerning  this  saint ;  a 
detailed  life  of  him  will  be  found  in  Baring-Gould,  vol.  for  August,  p.  40  flf. 
A  list  of  mediaeval  authorities  on  his  life  is  also  there  given. 


(44) 

A  lack  of  taste  is  shown  in  the  very  first  scene  by  be- 
ginning directly  with  a  murder ;  it  would  have  been  better  to 
suppose  the  duel  to  have  taken  place  before  the  opening  of 
the  play,  and  to  have  first  introduced  Domingo  as  seeking 
shelter  in  the  monastery.  In  this  way  an  abrupt  and  unpre- 
pared beginning  would  have  been  avoided. 

The  casting  out  of  the  devil  from  Gerarda  by  Fray  Vicente 
recalls  a  like  incident  in  "  El  Hijo  del  Serafiuy  San  Pedro  de 
Alcdntaraj^  where  Dorotea  is  cured  of  madness  by  San  Pedro. 

Scene  :  Soriano  and  the  mountains  near-by. 


(d)    COMEDIA   DEVOTA. 

Escaytderhech. 

This  piece  relates  the  romantic  conversion  to  Christianity  of 
George  Castriota,  who  was  dubbed  by  the  Turks  "  Iskander- 
beg,"  i.  6.,  '*  the  Prince  Alexander."  ^ 

He  was  a  famous  patriot  chief  of  Epirus,  and  was  born  in 
that  country  in  1414.  In  1423,  he  was  given  as  one  of  the 
Albanian  hostages  to  the  Sultan,  Amurath  II.  So  pleased  was 
the  ruler  with  him  that  he  was  lodged  in  the  royal  palace  as 
his  own  son,  brought  up  in  Islamism,  and  instructed  by  skilful 
masters.  After  distinguishing  himself  in  Asia  as  a  Turkish 
pasha,  he  turned  traitor  to  Amurath,  being  offended  at  the  con- 
fiscation of  his  paternal  dominions.  Together  with  three  hun- 
dred of  his  fellow-countrymen  in  the  Turkish  army  he  deserted, 
fled  to  Epirus,  and  took  possession  of  the  country.  Four  armies 
sent  against  him  were  annihilated,  and  finally  Amurath  him- 
self took  the  field.  Whether  the  latter  would  ultimately  have 
been  victorious  can  only  be  conjectured,  for  he  fell  ill,  and  died 
in  1450.  Scanderbeg^s  allies,  the  Epirote  chiefs,  now  be- 
came wearied  of  the  continued  strife  and  deserted  him,  some 
even  joining  the  Turks.  He  was  undaunted  by  this,  how- 
ever, and  battle  after  battle  followed  till  at  last,  in  1467, 

^The  anglicised  form  of  the  name  is  "Scanderbeg." 


(45) 

worn  out  with  the  incessant  toil  of  twenty-four  years,  the  in- 
domitable leader  died  at  Alessio.  He  had  vanquished  the 
Turks  in  twenty-two  pitched  battles  !  ^ 

Montalvan^s  production  is  uninteresting  and  of  no  value. 
The  style  is  poor,  and  culteranismo  is  much  in  evidence.  The 
shortness  of  the  piece  —  eighteen  pages  —  must  be  remarked, 
as  also  the  absence  of  division  into  acts.  The  Albania,  in 
which  was  situate  the  city  where  Scanderberg  first  met  Chris- 
terna,  is  evidently  not  the  country  now  known  by  that  name, 
but  the  ancient  Albania.^  This  district  lay  west  of  the  Cas- 
pian Sea,  and  corresponded  to  the  modern  Daghistan,  Schirvan 
and  Leghistan. 

The  play  forms  part  of  the  fifth  day's  entertainment  in  the 
''Para  Todos/'  folios  180-189,  edition  of  1645,  and  Mon- 
talvan,  himself,  there  states  that  the  life  of  Scanderbeg  was 
written  in  two  plays  by  Luis  Yelez  de  Guevara. 

An  "Amurates'^  figures  in  Moreto's  ''Dejar  un  Reino  por 
otro/'  but  whether  he  is  identical  with  our  Amurates,  I  am 
unable  to  determine. 

There  is  a  play  of  either  Belmonte  or  Luis  Velez  de  Guevara, 
entitled  :  "  El  gran  Jorge  Castrioto  y  Principe  EscaTiderbeck/^ 
which  was  printed  in  part  forty-five  of  the  ''Comedias  escogi- 
das/'  Madrid,  1679.^ 

Scene  :  A  city  in  Albania  and  Constantinople. 

^  The  biography  of  Castriota  was  written  by  Barlesio,  an  Epirote,  and  pub- 
lished at  Kome  in  1537  under  the  title  of  :  "  De  Vita  et  Moribus  ac  rebus  gesti 
Geo.  Castrioti." 

2  This  is  proved  by  the  following  : 

(a)  On  leaving  Christerna,  after  their  first  meeting,  Scandenbeg  states 
that  to  return  to  Constantinople  he  must  cross  the  river  Tanais,  the  modern 
Don,  which  flows  into  the  Sea  of  Azov  ;  therefore  he  must  have  been  east  of 
this  river. 

(6)  When  he  reaches  Constantinople,  he  informs  the  Sultan  that  he  has 
conquered  "Arabia,  Persia  and  Osiris." 

(c)  Christerna  tells  Scanderbeg  that  she  is  Queen  ''  of  all  that  the  Tigris 
produces." 

All  this  is  conclusive  evidence  that  the  ancient  —  Koman  —  Albania  is  in- 
tended. 

^Barrera,  p.  703. 


(46) 

V. 

List  of  Full  Titles  of  Works  Quoted  in  Abbrevia- 
tions IN  THE  Foot-notes  and  Text. 

Baring-Gould  =  Lives  of  the  Saints,  by  Eev.  S.  Baring- 
Gould,  new  edition.     London,  1898. 

Barrera  =  Catdlogo  BibliogrdfiGo  del  Teatro  Antiguo  Espaftolj 
^esde  siis  Origines  hasta  Mediados  del  Siglo  XVIII.  Por  D. 
Cayetano  Alberto  de  la  Barrera  y  Leirado.     Madrid,  1860. 

Fitzmaurice-Kelly  =  Historia  de  la  Literatura  Espanola, 
desde  los  Origines  hasta  el  Ano  1900,  por  Jaime  Fitzmaurice- 
Kelly  ;  traducida  del  Ingles  y  anotada  por  Adolfo  Bonilla  y 
San  Martin.     Madrid,  1901. 

Gallardo  =  Ensayo  de  una  Bihlioteca  Espanola  de  Libros 
Raros  y  Curiosos,  por  D.  Bartolom^  Jos6  Gallardo.  Madrid, 
1888. 

M^rim^e  =  Essai  sur  la  Vie  et  les  Oeuvres  de  Frandsco  de 
Quevedoy  par  E.  M^rim6e.     Paris,  1886. 

Rengifo  =  Arte  Foetica  Espanola,  con  una  Fertilissima  Sylva 
de  Consonantes  Comunes,  Fropios,  Esdruxulos,  y  Reflexos,  y  un 
Divino  Estimulo  del  Amor  de  Dios.  Su  Autor,  Juan  Diaz 
Rengifo.     Barcelona,  1703. 

Rivadeneyra  =  Bihlioteca  de  Autores  Espanoles  desde  la  For- 
madon  del  Lenguaje  hasta  Nuestros  Dia^,  por  J.  Ramon  de 
Mesonero  Romanos.     Madrid,  1881.     M.  Rivadeneyra,  editor. 

SchaefiPer  =  Geschichte  des  Spanischen  Nationaldramas,  von 
Adolf  Schaeffer.     Leipzig,  1890. 

Schack  =  Historia  de  la  Literatura  y  dd  Arte  Dramdtico  en 
Espafta,  por  Adolfo  Federico  Conde  de  Schack ;  traducida 
directamente  del  alemdn  al  castellano  por  Eduardo  de  Mier. 
Madrid,  1887. 

Schmidt  =  Die  Schauspide  Calderon^s,  dargestellt  und  erlau- 
tert  von  Friedr.  Wilh.  Val.  Schmidt,  Elberfeld,  1857. 

Ticknor  =  History  of  Spanish  Literature,  by  George  Tick- 
nor.  *  3d  edition.     Boston,  1866. 

Zeitschrift  =  Zeitschrift  fur  Romanische  Fhilologie,  heraus- 
gegeben  von  Gustav  Grober.     Halle. 


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